


Walking with a Ghost

by bakane



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Just Like Heaven au, ghost au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakane/pseuds/bakane
Summary: When Blake Belladonna moves into her new apartment, the last thing she expects the place to be is haunted. And the last, the utterly last thing Blake expects herself to do is to fall in love with a ghost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was walking with a ghost,  
> And I said please, please don't insist.
> 
> -Walking with a Ghost by Tegan and Sara

When Blake Belladonna moves into her new apartment, the last thing she expects the place to be is haunted. And the last, the utterly last thing Blake expects herself to do is to fall in love with a ghost.

-

Blake doesn’t understand it at first.

There’s just something strange about her new apartment. Little things. Like, how her books are never in the right places or why some of her clothes are sometimes lying on the floor. Why the light bulbs in her room always seem to flicker. It isn’t much, but Blake begins to notice.

She should have expected no less. After all, the offer had been too good to be true. It was cheap for its location, and the owner seemed very keen on renting out the room, as quickly as possible. Blake thought it had something to do with the neighborhood. She most _definitely_ didn’t think about how the previous tenant had passed away a month before.

No, Blake just didn’t believe in stuff like that.

After the third blackout, she decides to call an electrician. It’s just an old apartment, they say. Nothing out of the ordinary. Blake scoffs, but she doesn’t complain. She knows she can’t afford to move again.

She convinces herself that it’s a side effect of stress. The stress of moving to a new city, the stress of dealing with new people, finding new friends.

Five days after she’s moved in, Blake begins to feel a little nervous. Like she’s being watched, like someone is standing there, behind her in the shadows. It’s late, and Blake’s just trying to get some sleep. But things only get worse, never better. Doors close on their own. She hears footsteps in the middle of the night.

One time, she falls asleep on the couch and wakes up to _something_ breathing down her neck. She feels a soft tickle by her ear.

“Help me,” a voice whispers. “Help me, _please_.”

The temperature drops. Blake leaps off the couch, heart drumming, her body shaking in cold sweat. She looks around the room, but there’s nobody there.

It’s impossible. She must be hearing things. But her nerves won’t stay quiet, and every crevice in her room seems to be hiding something sinister.

She pours herself a glass of wine.

Several glasses, to be exact. She almost finishes the whole goddamn bottle before drifting back to sleep. The next morning, Blake tells herself it was just a nightmare. It _couldn’t_ have been real. Her new apartment isn’t haunted _._ Sure, she’s a fan of fiction, but she knew where the boundaries were.

Blake’s willing to forget about it all. Just a dream, she repeats under her breath, it was _just a dream._

A day passes by. Then another. Blake thinks she’s proven herself right, somehow. She’s not crazy. She’s just in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.

Except, she can’t help but lie awake in bed. For hours, she’s staring up at the ceiling, motionless, watching her breath catch in the dead of night.

It’s close to 2 AM. Blake reaches for the book on her bedside table. Instead, she feels something foggy. As if her hand has slipped into a nest of spider webs.

A shiver runs down her arm. She’s almost too afraid to look because she’s _sure_ there’s something there. There’s something _here_ in _her_ apartment. And as if things could get any worse, the ceiling lights begin to flicker.

Blake holds her breath, lips trembling, teeth clenched. A second later, there’s a figure standing in front of her. A young, half-translucent woman.

“Can you see me?” the ghost whispers. But with a blink of an eye, she’s gone. The lights seem to vanish along with her.

Blake waits, breathless and rigid, expecting every moment to see a form loom up beside her in the darkness. It takes a few minutes to realize that she’s alone.

For now, Blake thinks. For now.

-

“You’re crazy,” Sun tells her.

He doesn’t believe Blake, of course. He’s a good friend, but he’s not about to just accept the existence of the paranormal, at least not without any solid proof.

“I’m not _crazy_ ,” Blake argues back. “I’m telling you, I know what I saw. And I saw _her_.”

Sun still doesn’t look convinced. But he knows his friend pretty well. And Blake would never lie, meaning she probably did see _something._ Whether it was an actual ghost or not, that was still up for debate.

“Maybe she’s one of your new neighbors!” Sun gasps. “Maybe she broke into your apartment!”

“And then what?” Blake glares at him. “She vanished into thin air?”

“Well, maybe she’s a ninja.”

“Because _ninjas_ are so common these days.”

“Oh, sure.” Sun crosses his arms. “You don’t believe in ninjas but you’ll believe in ghosts.”

That’s some flawed logic right there, but Sun does make a good point. Everything about this is absurd, and Blake’s half-inclined to agree with him, just for the hell of it. But instincts tell her not to ignore this, not again. She remembers how she felt. Those chills. That whisper behind her ear.

Sun might not believe her, but he’s still nothing but supportive. He offers to stay over one night if it’ll make her feel better. Mostly, it’s because he’s got nothing better than to do than play video games at home. Blake thinks maybe he needs to get a job, but she’s not about to turn down her one friend of emotional support.

So, Sun invites himself to Blake’s apartment, promising her that everything will be alright. He holds her hand as they walk inside. The apartment is empty, just the way she left it.

Blake turns on the lights.

Sun pulls out a haphazard cross he made out of pencils and a few rubber bands.

“Hello?” Sun calls out. “Are there any evil spirits living in this house? Hello-oo?”

He doesn’t sound nearly as scared as he should be. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sings.

At this point, Blake isn’t sure if he’s doing more harm than good. It’s coincidental, but it feels like the universe is trying to prove her right.

Again, the lights begin to flicker. They go out one by one this time. From a distance, the bathroom door slams shut. There’s the rattling of books, falling off from their shelves. The ground seems to shake below their feet. At least she isn’t crazy, Blake thinks.

Slowly, Sun backtracks into the hallway, then to the stairwell, all the way back down to the main floor.

“Okay, I 100% believe you now,” he says after a breath.

“What do you think I should do?” Blake asks, feeling desperate.

“I don’t know, man.” Sun scratches his chin. “Call an exorcist? Visit the local church?”

He throws an arm over her shoulders. “No worries. If worst comes to worst, you can come crash at my place.” He laughs like this is no big deal.

Blake knows he’s just trying to help. But she also thinks Sun might be the dumbest friend she’s ever had.

-

Honestly, Blake doesn’t know what to do.

She should leave. Technically, it's the most sensible thing to do. It’s what she’s always thinking, whenever she happens to watch a horror movie. Leave! Pack up your things and leave! Why on earth would you go back! Forget the dog. Forget the kids. Forget your goddamn mortgage payments. Tuck your tail between your legs and get the fuck out of there!

All she needs is her wallet, really. She could be in and out of the door in less than a minute. There’s a rundown motel a couple blocks down from her place. It’s the cheapest one she could find. But even then, Blake knows she won’t last very long. She hasn’t got that much money to burn.

She doesn’t have a choice. She’s too poor to deal with a ghost problem. And with that thought, she starts to feel a little angry, a little cheated even. Who was this ghost? What right did it have to chase her out of her own apartment?

Then, maybe, just maybe, Blake thinks, the ghost means her no harm? It had asked for her _help,_ after all. Not her blood. Maybe, after all this time, the ghost was just trying to get her attention.

Blake isn’t sure how, but she plucks up the courage to find out.

Against her better judgment, she marches right back up to her apartment. Alone, this time. She cleans up all the mess. The disarray of books, the shards of broken glass on the floor. She keeps _all_ of the lights on.

After an hour or so, Blake is sitting on the living room couch, at least somewhat determined.

“Um… Are you there, ghost?” she calls out with little faith. “I’m willing to talk if you are…”

This time, ironically, the apartment is as silent as death. Blake starts to feel a tad stupid. What was she thinking? It’s not like she’s some ghost whisperer or anything. What was she going to do? Channel a spirit? Ask it out to brunch? Volunteer for a quick chat?

The clock keeps ticking. It’s getting close to midnight, and Blake’s been up for thirty-six hours at this point. Her shoulders ache from the built-up tension. She’s almost too tired to care. Death by ghost strangulation doesn’t seem that bad if she thinks about it long and hard.

She’s right about to fall asleep when she feels _something_ whoosh by. An invisible force, plopping down next to her seat.

-

The first time Blake sees her, she’s sure that she’s dreaming.

Blake doesn’t know what it is she signed up for, deciding to stay at this godforsaken hellhole of an apartment. But she certainly didn’t think she’d come face-to-face with an actual, materialized ghost.

 _Ghost_ might not even be the proper word for her. She looks almost solid now, like a real person. She’s not wearing a white nightgown or some tacky 18th-century Victorian dress. She’s got blonde hair, and she’s wearing a black leather jacket, with some skimpy-looking pair of jeans.

And spirits, she’s tall. She’s tall, and she’s pretty, and she’s quite positively the most beautiful thing Blake’s ever seen.

She’s also, most positively, dead. Because she is somehow effortlessly floating on top of Blake’s old couch cushions.

“So you _can_ see me,” says the ghost, looking as shocked as Blake feels. Then her face starts to contort, and it looks like she’s about to cry.

Blake’s never been hugged by a ghost before, but it doesn’t feel anything like she could’ve imagined. The ghost wraps its arms around her, affectionate and friendly, and yet her skin is dreadfully cold and her body feels like it’s running through a rush of water. Blake lasts one second before scampering out of the way.

“Sorry,” the ghost sounds sincere enough to believe. “It’s just that… You’re the first person who can actually hear me and talk to me. It’s a bit overwhelming.”

She wipes away an invisible tear and Blake feels like now is the perfect moment to answer some of her questions.

“So... You _don’t_ want to kill me?” she asks, just to be sure.

“No! Of course not!” The ghost grows a little paler. “I’m harmless, I swear!”

And as if to show off, she flips over onto her feet and sticks out her right hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Blake.” The ghost grins at her. “I’m Yang.”

Blake stares at this “Yang,” still feeling entirely suspicious.

“How do you know my name?” she asks, pursing her lips and frowning. She doesn’t remember introducing herself but considering what little she does remember she’s not so sure she can trust her own memory at the moment.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed already,” Yang laughs nervously, “I’ve been living here since day one.”

“Oh.” Blake looks down at her feet. “Right…”

“Not that I’ve been stalking you or anything!” Yang explains quickly. “I’ve just, uh, been around, trying to get you to notice me. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Blake nods, because yes, she _has_ noticed and has definitely been spooked out of her wits. Although it’s taken her much longer than Yang probably would’ve hoped for. She was never the brightest when it came to these sort of things. It’s not like she tries or anything. She’s just never been very aware of things sitting right under her nose. Sun likes to remind her of this, constantly.

“So you’re taking this surprisingly well?” Yang comments, after a minute of silence. “Seen a lot of ghosts in your lifetime?” she asks, half-amused, half-curious.

“Oh, trust me,” Blake replies wryly. “This has never happened to me before.”

“Yeah,” Yang says after a beat. “Me neither.”

They stare at each other for a while. Blake notices her eyes for the first time – they’re pale, with a hint of lilac. Blake wonders how bright they must have been, back when the girl was still alive. Then she starts to feel uncomfortable again. She blinks. She looks away.

Yang’s just standing there now. She’s rocking back and forth on her feet like she doesn’t even know where to begin. What do you do if you’re a ghost? What is there to say? Blake tries to put on a polite smile, but she’s sure it comes off as more of a grimace.

“Can I ask what you’re doing here?” she decides to ask. “Is there something you want from me?”

Yang appears to deflate a little. “No. It’s nothing like that,” she sighs. “I just woke up and here I was, you know?”

Blake gives her a pitying look. “But why here?” she questions.

“I don’t know. I’ve tried looking around,” Yang hesitates, “But this place seems so familiar, I keep coming back to it. I’m pretty sure I used to live here before.”

Before. Blake’s not sure why she hasn’t thought of this sooner, but suddenly everything starts to make a little more sense.

“You’re the previous tenant,” she gasps. “The one who died.”

Yang bites her lip. “Probably,” she says as if she doesn’t want to admit it. “It doesn’t really explain why I haven’t disappeared yet.”

“Maybe you have some unfinished business to take care of,” Blake tries, gently. “That’s usually how it is, isn’t it? In, um, movies and books.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Yang’s frown grows even deeper. “I don’t really remember.”

“You don’t remember anything?” Blake pauses. She doesn’t know if that’s normal or not. Were ghosts not supposed to remember everything when they died?

“Just my name.” Yang shrugs. “Everything’s…fuzzy.”

She looks like she’s on the verge of crying again, and Blake’s _really_ thankful that she doesn’t this time. She doesn’t even know how to console alive people. She doubts she’d have any better luck with the dead.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Yang suddenly speaks up. Her voice is quivering now, and she’s biting her lips like she might collapse if Blake were to even think of saying no.

“I was wondering if you could help me out a little,” Yang says quickly, and seriously. “You’re the only person in the world who can see me like this. And I don’t know- It’s weird, isn’t? Maybe we were supposed to meet each other. Maybe you were meant to find me.”

Yang stares at Blake. She stares like she’s the only pillar holding up the whole damn universe. Blake understands how she must feel. Or, at least, she tries to understand, what it must feel like to be a ghost, to be lost and afraid.

But for now, everything feels _wrong_. Yang’s eyes are too much. There’s too much hope there, too much despair. None of this makes sense, and Blake still isn’t sure if this is some figment of her imagination or not.

Help her with what? Not to be blunt, but the girl is dead. She’s _dead_.

Blake doesn’t care about fate. She doesn’t even _believe_ in fate. She didn’t ask to be mixed up in all of this. Her head hurts, and what she really needs to do is get some proper sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she manages to say. “I don’t think I can.”

The air feels heavy, and Blake braces herself. For something. Anything. Ghosts are vengeful by nature, aren’t they? She’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to piss off any otherworldly spirit, but she’d gone and done it anyway.

Except, Yang just stands there.

She’s not talking, she’s not moving. It’s almost like Blake could see her spirit, her aura. It dims a little, like a light bulb with a crack.

“Oh” is all Yang says.

There’s a moment of hushed silence.

In the next moment, she’s gone. Blake’s room feels a lot colder than it ever did before.

-

The remainder of the week is as difficult as Blake expects it to be.

She knows that Yang hasn’t left yet. The apartment is still a few degrees lower than normal, and the thermostat doesn’t seem to work with a ghostly presence nearby.

It’s a wonder Blake didn’t learn about her roommate any sooner because Yang isn’t very good at hiding.

Obviously, when Blake said she wouldn’t be of any help, it was sort of her indirect way of saying: “Please, get the fuck out of my house.” She just didn’t want to say it like that, with her voice all shrill and less convincing.

Apparently, Yang had interpreted this as: “I’m not going to help you, but mi casa es su casa.”

To be fair, Yang does try to stay out of Blake’s way. It’s just that everything she does is very grand, very noticeable. It also doesn’t help how restless and bored she gets.

Sometimes she’s just sitting in the living room, watching the cooking channel when Blake comes back home from work. Yang tries to flee the scene, but it takes a while for her to find the remote, and it takes even longer for her to turn off the television. (Apparently, materializing and dematerializing takes a lot of self-control).

Whenever she’s caught, and in a hurry to leave, Yang does this odd sort of jump-tuck-and-roll maneuver. When she’s not running through walls that is. It’s endearing, in a way. It takes about two-and-a-half days for Blake to admit this to be true.

Once in a while, she’d find Yang standing outside on the balcony. When she’s alone, she has this faraway look in her eyes, and only then does she look like the ghost she claims to be. As much as Blake wants to be left alone, she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at that.

For a long while, nothing happens. They pretend as though they don’t notice each other. Even if they’re always giving each other a second glance. When they do, by chance, make eye contact, Yang wears the same hopeful expression as before. _Won’t you change your mind? Won’t you help me, please?_ It’s written there, as clear as day.

But Yang will never ask her again. Even if she’s a ghost, and she’s got nothing left to lose. Surely, she could just threaten Blake into doing what she wants, but Yang doesn’t do that for some reason.

It’s confusing, and Blake doesn’t know if she wants to give in or if she’s perfectly happy with the way things are. She’s never been too fond of change. A part of her still thinks Yang will leave one day if she can keep up with this charade long enough.

She’s mulling over the situation, sipping on a hot cup of tea while she does it when Yang suddenly pops up into the stool next to her. Blake chokes on her drink and begins to cough.

Yang’s been practicing for a week. She manages to pick up a piece of napkin and push it in Blake’s direction. She has something important to say, Blake could tell by that wrinkle in between her eyes.

In some way, she’s right. She’s about to get exactly what she wanted all along.

“I thought I should at least say goodbye,” Yang tells her quietly.

“You’re leaving?” Blake carefully asks because a part of her is still wondering if Yang’s dangerous or not.

“Yeah, well…” Yang sighs. “I can tell how uncomfortable you’ve been, and I guess it’s not exactly fair for me to keep staying here.”

And it makes sense, for Yang to go.

She may have lived here, once, but that girl was long gone now.

What’s the point of wasting her afterlife here? Blake thinks. As a ghost, Yang has the whole universe to explore. She could be kicking back at some five-star hotel in Abu Dhabi, instead of haunting a lousy studio apartment in San Francisco.

So, it doesn’t make sense why Yang looks so sad. Why her heart aches when she sees Yang, turning back towards the door.

It doesn’t make sense how the first thing Blake feels now is a pang of loss, and the next following instinct is to convince Yang not to go.

“Wait,” Blake says before she can stop herself.

This time, it’s Yang’s turn to look confused.

“I-I've been giving this a lot of thought.” Blake stops for a second, half in disbelief. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She has no idea what her next words should be. It doesn’t help that Yang’s looking straight at her, with those big gorgeous purple eyes.

“I don’t know _how_ I can help you,” Blake adds, just to be clear. “I’m not a paranormal expert or anything. But maybe I can help you try and figure out who you were before you died.”

She looks down at the ground and fiddles with her fingers. It’s a crazy idea, and she isn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.

“You’re welcome to stay here until then,” Blake decides and smiles as an afterthought. “I don’t think it’s fair for me to kick you out of your own apartment. Even if you are, well, dead.”

There’s a pause. Yang stares for a moment like she’s been caught completely off-guard. Her eyes are searching Blake’s for answers, an explanation perhaps. Then, her shoulders start to unwind. All the tension inside her begins to subside.

“Thanks, Blake,” Yang says softly. She smiles, for the first time in days.

Somehow that’s all that matters, Blake thinks.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, let's summarize what we do know," Blake starts. "Your name is Yang. You don’t remember your last name. You don’t remember anything about your life before you died, except that you used to live here, probably.”

“Yup.” Yang smiles sheepishly. “That sounds about right.”

It’s really not much to go on, and Blake’s just starting to realize what a mess she’s involved herself in.

She didn’t exactly think this one through when she told Yang she could stay. It’s so unlike her, to be this spontaneous, and she has no one else to blame but herself. It's just that sinking feeling inside her chest. She thought maybe it’ll go away, once she agrees to help Yang. But it’s still there, like a terrible itch.

“Well, what about you?” Yang glances at her. “What do you do, Blake?”

It takes a moment to realize that the attention has shifted to her instead.

“Nothing interesting, really,” Blake hesitates, “I work in publishing.”

“Oh! No, that’s really cool!” Yang says, sounding all too enthusiastic. “Is that what you used to do before you moved?”

“Sort of,” Blake replies, and she does that thing she always does mid-conversation. She starts to clam up.

“What made you decide to come here?” Yang continues, not taking the slightest hint. “Where’d you used to live before?”

Blake falters at the question. On one hand, she knows Yang is just trying to be friendly, but on the other hand, she thinks maybe it's better to make things clear from the very beginning. Lay out the ground rules. Some boundaries.

“We don’t really need to this," Blake offers in a quiet voice.

“Do what?”

“Talk about me," she answers uneasily. 

There's a moment of silence, probably because Yang's trying to figure out if Blake's kidding or not. It takes her another minute to see that Blake is being entirely serious.

“You’re a pretty private person, aren’t you?” Yang remarks, an odd twinkle in her eyes.

Blake just nods. It should be quite obvious, she thinks. This is the longest conversation she’s had all week, aside from work and Sun.

“I know we don't have to, but I'm curious," Yang tells her frankly. "You agreed to help me, so I want to get to know you better. Something other than your name and your penchant for reading?”

“Are those not enough?” Blake asks, because that’s practically her life in a nutshell.

“I told you everything I know about me,” argues Yang, pulling a face.

“It’s not much,” Blake says dryly.

“Touché,” Yang agrees but that doesn't mean she's willing to back down from a challenge. She's still got that smile on her face, the one that makes Blake's heart feel queasy.

“Sorry," Blake mumbles. "I’m not very good at this.”

“At talking?” Yang sounds more amused than anything else.

“Yes, talking in general.” Blake glares. “I don’t do it often.”

She notices Yang, nodding as though she completely understands. There's a pause as she appears to be thinking.

“Well?" Yang asks after a moment. “Are you willing to make an exception?” 

Her eyes are still watching. It's a look of patience, as though she's waiting for Blake to give her a tiny little chance. She's already opened the doors, so why not let somebody in for once?

“We’ll make it work,” Blake replies because she knows she has it in her to try.

-

It’s weird, but they fall into some sort of a routine.

Blake’s always lived alone, and she's grown accustomed to a certain life style of her choice.

They’re as different as night and day, Blake and Yang. Naturally, they shouldn't get along. It takes about a week, for the awkwardness to fade.

Then things sort of click into place, and it's hard to believe how it  _works_ between them. It's even harder to admit why it might be so. Maybe this is what Blake needed all along. Of course, her new roommate  _had_  to be a ghost.

There are definite perks, like how Yang never eats any of her food (because, duh, she doesn't need to). Or how she never leaves a mess in the bathroom. She even disappears from time to time. It's the perfect arrangement, Blake decides.

Though there are many things she has to get used to. Like how Yang's always somehow there, watching her when she thinks she's being sneaky. Blake needs to remind herself, constantly, that she isn't living alone anymore. She shouldn't freak out every time Yang pops out of nowhere or suddenly comes in through the livingroom wall. It doesn't help that the more time passes, the more Yang seems to enjoy scaring the crap out of Blake.

Yang's also made the habit of greeting Blake by the door, every morning when she leaves for work, and every night when she comes home.

“Welcome back!” Yang says as she beams at her, and Blake thinks she's crazy at first. Why else would she be so happy to see some stranger walk through the door? Then Blake wonders just how lonely she must have been, living as a ghost for so long with no one else to talk to.

In a few days, she learns more about Yang than she probably knows about herself. It helps that Yang has this magical ability to talk for hours and hours. With or without her memories, she manages to find something interesting to say. And there seems to be something there, hints of her old self, her old life. Muscle memory, perhaps.

She’d be watching Blake drink tea and suddenly remember what her favorite brand of coffee used to be. She’d be halfway through a movie and remember that she’s already seen this one before. Blake doesn’t appreciate spoilers, but she lets Yang talk through them anyway.

It’s a joy, really. To see her jump up and down at even the slightest provocation of a memory. Even if they are insignificant things, they matter a whole lot to Yang. She has nothing but those pieces to hold onto, tiny clues as to the person who she used to be.

Blake’s never been the type of person to dive into anything head first. Yang’s quite the opposite. She may not remember anything about her life on earth, but she has this spark of energy in her.

More often than not, it’s hard to believe Yang isn’t actually alive. She’s more present than Blake’s ever been. She’s attentive. She’s got that special kind of smile – bright, lopsided, and not at all shy. There’s a keenness in the way she speaks. There's sincerity and there's warmth.

In moments, when Yang is on her own, she looks lost and afraid. She doesn't like it when it's night time, watching the whole city fall asleep without her as she's stuck in time.

The weight of her own existence pushes down on them both, but she lights up when she sees Blake in the morning. And Blake returns the smile, to the best that she can.

She tries to make her feel comfortable. Maybe it's out of fear, at first. But now, she’s come to the startling realization that she enjoys Yang’s company more than anything else.

A part of her thinks she should stop _. Don’t give in. Don’t get attached._

But then she notices Yang, trying to throw a blanket over her whenever she falls asleep on the couch. She sees Yang, floating behind her, trying to read whatever it is she’s reading. She makes this little “aw” sound whenever Blake turns the page too soon.

Sometimes, Yang will shout at her from across the room, just to grab her attention before doing something silly.

"Hey, Blake! Watch this!" Yang says before doing a crazy backflip, and somehow landing upside down on the ceiling.

It’s annoying. It’s cute. She must be crazy for even thinking it. But it’s been so long since she’s been intimate with  _anyone_. She never knew how lonely she’d been until she was no longer alone.

-

Once, Blake comes back home from the store and finds the kitchen half-filled with smoke. The fire alarm is ringing at its maximum, and Yang appears by the door, looking guiltier than any human being on the planet.

Yang tries to explain – she was only trying to cook her a ‘thank you meal,’ but the stove seemed to malfunction at her touch.

Between Yang’s guilty face, the fire, the rising smoke, and the burnt piece of food (which Blake thinks might have been spaghetti at one point), she can’t help but crack a smile. It’s so stupidly charming of her, Blake laughs out loud for the first time in weeks.

Now, Yang hasn’t known her for too long. She certainly hasn’t seen Blake lose her cool yet. And when Blake’s finally done laughing, she puts out the fire and disables the alarm. She turns to Yang, who still looks dumbfounded like she’d been expecting  _this_  to have been the final straw – she’d be calling an exorcist any day now.

“Please don’t burn the house down,” Blake tells her instead. “My insurance won’t cover it.”

And for the longest minute, Yang stares at her. Then she breaks into this odd, relieved sort of grin.

“Geez, Blake.” Yang laughs, and when she does she laughs with her entire body. “You are by far the weirdest person I have ever met.”

“How would you even know that?” Blake smirks. “You haven’t met anyone other than me.”

“You  _literally_  agreed to be roomies with a ghost, who just set your stove on fire by the way,” Yang points out with the biggest shit-eating smile on her face. “No matter who I meet in the afterlife, I think you take the cake.”

Blake thinks she might be right about that one. Which is strange, because she definitely isn’t or  _wasn’t_ the type of person Yang thinks she might be.

It’s just that she takes pleasure in surprising Yang. She likes making jokes, being witty. It feels like she’s discovering a part of her, a part she never knew existed until now.

It takes a few weeks, but others begin to notice.

“You seem different,” Sun tells her one afternoon. “What happened? Did you fix your ghost problem yet?”

“I’ve got it under control,” Blake replies. Because there’s no way she can explain the truth in under thirty minutes…in public…with witnesses.

“I’m just saying. You’re in a good mood these days,” Sun notes with a suspicious grin. “What is it? Did you get lucky last night?”

It should be concerning, that Blake didn’t even realize she’d been smiling just now. Except, a part of her thinks maybe it’s time that things have changed. And she sure doesn’t have a way of explaining  _why_ that is.

“You can say that,” Blake settles for an answer. The look on Sun’s face is absolutely worth it.

-

It’s a normal Sunday afternoon.

She’s been binge watching a TV show, with Yang’s unnecessary commentary in the middle, when the door to her apartment suddenly opens.

“Uh… I brought pizza?” Sun is standing awkwardly by the door, and Blake regrets having ever given him that spare key. She pushes him out the door before Yang has a chance to speak.

It’s only a second later when she realizes how stupid she’s being, trying to hide a literal  _ghost_  from her friend’s eyes.

“Were you talking to yourself just now?” Sun asks, obviously confused.

“No. I was just…” Blake sighs at the inevitable. She knows she has to tell someone, sooner or later. “I was talking to Yang.”

“Who?” Sun asks again.

“She’s the ghost that’s been living in my apartment,” Blake answers, carefully and quietly.

“Wait. What?!” He takes a step back, eyes wide as saucers, and his voice definitely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Are you serious? She’s  _still_  here? You said you had it under control!”

“I do,” Blake argues, trying to remain calm. “We came to an agreement and I’ve decided to let her stay. At least, for now.”

“No way!” Sun looks absolutely flabbergasted. “You don’t even want  _me_  as your roommate but you’re okay sharing it with a  _ghost_?”

“Her name’s Yang,” Blake quickly defends her. “And to be fair, the last time I went over to your place, I found a chicken wing hiding underneath the couch cushion.”

“Yeah, so, okay, I might not be the cleanliest guy out there,” Sun falters, “But at least I’m not DEAD!”

“It’s not like that,” Blake explains after a sigh. “I’m just trying to help her pass on to the next life, that’s all.”

“The next life? Since when do you believe in stuff like that?” Sun demands, still looking at her like she’s the craziest person on earth.

“Since always,” Blake snaps. “Now, go away. I’ll talk to you later.”

“But I brought pizza!”

“Sun,  _please_.”

“Fine, fine! Just let me get one thing straight,” he says, before grabbing her face by the cheeks. “She hasn’t possessed you or anything, right? It’s still you in there?”

“If I slap you, would that answer your question?” Blake drawls.

“Okay, I guess that does sound like something you'd say.” Sun grins at her. “But you call me if you need anything, okay? I may not be an actual Ghostbuster, but I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Sun.” Blake rolls her eyes, but she appreciates the sentiment. “Now, go,” she tells him again, this time with a softer smile. She makes sure to see him leave the building before heading back to her apartment.

“So?” Yang asks, the moment she walks back into the bedroom.

“So…?” Blake repeats.

“That friend of yours. He’s not your, um,” Yang pauses, trying to remember her word, “boyfriend, is he?”

“Of course not.” Blake snorts at the very idea. But Yang looks entirely serious.

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“What? No.”

“…Fiancée?”

“Yang,” Blake bristles, “Sun is just a friend. I swear.”

And she shouldn’t have to swear, because Yang was just a friend as well, wasn’t she? It isn’t even her business, to be asking.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s cool.” Yang nods. She sounds like she’s trying not to care, but Blake knows for a fact that she’s not a very good liar.

“It’s not like it matters,” Yang continues, but she still looks mighty distracted. “I was just curious, you know? I don’t really ever see you hang out with anyone else. Like, you don’t have any other friends.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Blake wonders out loud. She’s always known this about herself, but she’s never cared enough to change.

“No! No, it’s definitely not a  _bad_  thing,” Yang assures her. “It’s just surprising. I mean, you seem like a genuinely cool person. It doesn’t make sense that you’re still single!”

Blake feels a twinge of heat in her cheeks. “You’re the only person who thinks so, Yang,” she mumbles in embarrassment.

“Hey! I may be dead, but I'm not blind, okay?” Yang grins. “You’re amazing, Blake. Between letting me stay here and trying to help me figure out who I am…”

She tries not to take Yang’s comments to heart. She’s just doing what any decent human being would do, and the fact that Yang’s such good company makes it even easier.

It's Yang, who's the one doing all the hard work. She’s the one who keeps remembering something after the other. Blake tells her this because she doesn’t want Yang to misunderstand.

“But you keep me here,” Yang replies back quietly. “You keep me grounded.”

And, oh, Blake doesn’t know where to look now. They're just words, she tells herself, and she hates the way her heart hops inside her chest.

-

Blake can feel Yang’s gaze on her. She hasn't moved in a while, and Blake isn't sure what to do or if she should say something back.

They’re both lying in bed, reading. Blake is trying to, at least, if she isn't so distracted.

It's hard to pay attention when Yang is in one of _those_ moods. When she takes a page out of Blake's book and wants to keep to herself. Blake has no idea what happens when Yang zones out, only that she's sure it can't be good.

After a while, Yang turns away, and she’s hovering over the blankets, looking up at the ceiling like there are stars.

“What do you think I was like?” Yang whispers in the dark. “What kind of person do you think I was before I died?”

“I don’t know,” Blake says as she considers. “Probably loud-"

“Hey!”

“-and charming, and funny and sweet…” Blake stops as she catches her smile.

Yang goes quiet, and when she doesn’t talk, the room falls silent alongside her. It’s a silence Blake’s been unaware of for so long.

“Do you think there are people out there who’ll miss me?” Yang asks again. Her voice is lower this time, her tone serious and wistful.

Blake almost thinks she's misheard her. Because how could Yang think otherwise? The answer comes so naturally for her, it's strange to think that Yang doesn't know this, that for some reason she can't seem to understand it.

“I know there are,” she promises Yang, and it’s the truth. It’s never been clearer. She doesn’t know how, but she needs to find them. These people who would’ve known Yang, the real Yang. The people who would have spoken with her, laughed with her, grown up alongside her. Those who would have most definitely loved her, for everything that she is.

She hopes that Yang knows, even though Blake realizes her words aren’t going to be enough. She needs to prove it, somehow.

For now, Yang seems to understand what she’s trying to do. She nods. She looks over at Blake, who’s lying next to her, breathless and torn. It’s odd, how she feels so cold and so warm at the same time.

Yang looks down, and for a moment, her eyes seem to linger at their hands. And perhaps Blake is thinking the same thing. They’re so close. _She’s_ so close, close enough to touch.

But it’s not enough, and Blake’s too afraid to find out what this could mean. She’s scared to reach out, to feel her hand go through Yang’s – to know that this isn’t real, not as real as she’s making it out to be.

“Good night,” Yang says as if she knows. There's the faintest hint of a smile on her face. Then she disappears for the night.

“Good night,” Blake whispers to herself.

She falls asleep, dreaming of clouds and birds flying through the sky.

The next morning, she gets on the landline and tries calling the building manager again.

After hours of talking, she finally manages to drag  _something_  out of him. It’s Yang’s emergency contact information, possibly of a relative. She tells Yang, as soon as she gets the number, but when Blake calls, nobody answers.

She tries multiple times, and yet it's always the same, nobody ever picks up.

It takes a lot of effort, for Yang not to look disappointed. Blake can tell though. She just doesn’t know what else to say, how to comfort her. This was their only lead, and now it’s a dead end.

It's not fair that she's the only one who can do this. It's not fair that she's all that Yang has. There's no reason for why it has to be her. None of this makes sense.

Yang still talks about fate and destiny from time to time, but even if that were true, if the universe were putting them together by chance, how was she supposed to help Yang when she can't even help herself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, guys! Over 200 kudos and hits! Thanks so much for reading, and I promise I'll make an update soon. You can follow me on tumblr @bakanesup if you want any previews/updates or wanna ask questions or give me some prompts! Love you all.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s something different in the air between them. Blake is the first to notice but she’s afraid to say it, for the fear of losing what she’s found.

It’s like the morning light has dimmed, and though everything else remains the same, even though Yang never admits that she isn’t fine, Blake knows that deep inside Yang is hurting, and she worries how one day her patience will wear thin, and Yang won’t have a reason left to stay.

“Are you okay?” she asks eventually, and Yang stops, turns back in Blake’s direction. She looks tired, and there’s something about her eyes holding Blake. They look emptier, somehow. Like she’s missing a piece of herself, and no matter how hard she tries, it won’t come to her in this life.

She doesn't remember as much anymore. It's like she doesn't even try. Maybe she's preparing herself for the worst, Blake surmises, and she can't help but feel how  _wrong_ that is, because it isn't like Yang to just give up and call it quits.

Then Blake realizes maybe she doesn’t know Yang as well as she thought. She’s not used to the numbness, the pain. And for once, Blake can’t help but try and be the optimistic one. She thinks of the alternative, of Yang remembering everything and figuring out the real reason that’s keeping her here on earth. She’ll disappear soon after. Blake knows this. She’s signed up for it since day one. But at least then, she’ll know that Yang is truly happy and ready to move on.

It’s not a lot, but she’s been doing her own version of research. Statistically, there has to be _someone_  out there who's gone through a similar situation, no matter how impossible that may seem. Blake investigates, keywords being “trauma,” “death” and/or “amnesia.” And though she doesn’t really think googling “Yang” will get her anywhere significant, Blake feels the need to do something. Otherwise, the waiting might drive her insane.

She decides to work at home for a few days. It’s difficult between trying to keep her boss’s deadlines and trying to think of new ways to help Yang.

“How come you never leave the house anymore?” Yang asks one afternoon, breaking the silence. Blake stops what she’s doing. She sets her laptop aside and looks up.

Yang is hovering over the edge of Blake's bed, and she's watching her face carefully.

“Pardon?” Blake replies. She’s wondering what kind of question that is, and if Yang is secretly implying she should get a life or something.

“Am I holding you back?” Yang continues, wearing a deep frown. “Just because I never leave the house doesn’t mean you should too.”

Blake considers what she’s just heard, and it’s true. Maybe she’s been spending time at her apartment even more so than usual. It just seems like the natural thing to do. It feels weird, leaving Yang here by herself.

At first, she thinks maybe Yang _can’t_ leave. Her soul’s been cursed to stay at this horrible studio apartment for the rest of her life. Except, Blake has asked before, and she knows Yang is more than capable of going outside on her own, she just prefers not to. _There’s no point._ Yang had turned to her and said.

“Would you like to?” Blake asks, all of the sudden.

“Huh?”

“Go out, I mean,” she adds, and her face feels a little hot. Because this is _not_ Blake asking Yang out on a date. Absolutely not.

“I’m supposed to meet a friend for dinner tomorrow,” Blake just remembers. “I thought maybe we could do something together until then.”

“Together, as in…? You want me to come with you?” Yang talks about it like it’s the most ludicrous thing in the whole world. “Why?” she asks.

Well, Blake doesn't know _why_. She never has a good answer for that. But she tries to sound convincing. She goes on and on about the importance of trying (something that Yang has taught her), how seeing something out there might jog her memory, and how the fresh air might do her some good. 

It’s a stupid excuse since Yang’s a _ghost_ and she doesn’t actually need oxygen to breathe. Yang looks at her, as though she’s the biggest dork for thinking it, but at least she’s smiling.

“I’d love to,” Yang answers.

-

It’s four o’clock on a Saturday.

Blake dresses up for once, putting on her favorite sleeveless shirt and dress pants. Yang is waiting for her by the door. She looks half-excited, half-tense, and Blake’s glad she’s not the only one to be feeling nervous.

“You look great by the way,” Yang says quickly. “Not that you don’t always look great, because sweatpants are cool and everything and they look great on you too, but you know…”

“Thanks,” Blake says back, all too breathlessly.

As they leave the apartment, Yang makes a conscious effort to walk, not float, alongside her. It makes things seem a lot easier, a lot more normal.

They drop by a coffee shop first, and Blake gets herself a cup of brewed tea. It’s nearing the end of February and the weather’s warmed enough for a lovely evening breeze.

“Where should we go?” Blake ponders. “Is there someplace you want to see?”

“Not really.” Yang laughs off her question. “It’s not like I can really do anything in this body,” she jokes.

“Oh. Right.” Blake stares down at her shoes. Maybe this isn’t the best way she could’ve cheered up Yang. Maybe this is a stupid idea after all. “We can just walk around the neighborhood if you want?”

“I don’t think you thought this one through,” Yang replies, and Blake’s _really_ starting to consider turning back now. But then Yang cuts in front of her. She leans over and wiggles a finger in her face. She looks like she’s holding in a fit of laughter, and it feels almost crucial that Blake stops and stares for a while.

“What?” Blake frowns. “What is it?”

“No one else can see me, remember?” Yang teases. “You must look pretty crazy right now, just saying.”

Blake opens her mouth, ready to retort when she realizes that their conversation is no longer private. A couple of children are looking up at her. They’re staring at her as they’d stare at anyone who’s talking to themselves in the middle of the road.

“This is so embarrassing,” Blake mumbles. She makes a quick turn around the corner, walking so fast Yang has to jog in order to keep up with her.

“I probably should’ve told you sooner,” Yang says with a cheeky smile. It makes her look far more amused than actually sorry.

Blake can still feel people watching her from behind, and though it's second nature for her to feel self-conscious, a part of her doesn’t want to stop, because Yang doesn’t look like she’s thinking about you-know-what. She draws in a little closer, and Blake’s feet starts to feel a little lighter.

They head off towards the park. Yang is exactly the type of person who would want to be out in nature. Thankfully, Blake is fond of it too, and she knows a place by the lake where they can enjoy a little privacy.

They share a moment, skipping stones. Yang teaches her how to do it because Blake’s never learned before. Yang’s presence wraps around her like a mist, and despite everything, despite the very abnormal circumstances that surround them, Blake swears she can feel _something_ if she stands close enough to Yang's heart.

Yang does another cool ghost trick and hurls a piece of stone across the lake. It skips for about eleven times before plunging into the water. A couple kids passing by fall off their bikes and begin to shout and cheer. They huddle around Blake, who in their mind has just thrown a piece of rock _with her_ _mind_.

Blake finds it just a tad amusing that the kids think she’s got some sort of freaky psychic powers. Yang thinks she’s being funny when she sneaks around them and lifts one of the kids off his feet. Naturally, he screams and starts to cry. Blake runs away immediately because no way in hell is she explaining that to the boy’s parents.

“I think we just traumatized them,” Blake says after they’re at least a mile away. But she’s laughing, and Yang’s laughing alongside her.

-

The sun is beginning to set.

They're both lying in the grass. Blake rests her legs along the edge of the lake. In the light, the water remains glassy and smooth. 

"It feels like today's my birthday," Yang remarks.

"Is it?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Yang says absentmindedly, but Blake understands what she's saying. It's all very euphoric.

“Can I ask you something?” Yang speaks without looking up. Blake tells her to go aheadbecause Yang is busy fidgeting with her hair. A tell-tale sign that she's nervous and is about to say something important.

“When's the last time you've been on a date?” Yang asks, and Blake could hear the eagerness in her voice now.

"I can't remember," she answers because honestly, she really can't. 

"That long ago, huh?" Yang laughs, satisfied with pulling out the truth.

“I did go on a blind date recently,” Blake admits after a moment.

“Yeah?" This gets Yang's attention. "How’d it go?”

“Terribly,” Blake retorts. "She never showed up."

“Are you telling me somebody actually stood you up?” Yang says it like it can't possibly be true. Then, she pauses and does another wild double-take. “Wait a second. She? You’re, uh, you’re into-?"

Blake gives her a pointed look.

“Cool," Yang says under her breath. "Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool...”

She's still floundering for words as Blake looks up at the sky. There's a part of her that's curious, that wants to ask Yang the same question she's been given. If Yang dares to remember, Blake wonders who it might have been, what kind of person would have stood by her side.

-

Neither of them speaks for the longest time. It's nice, once in a while, to enjoy the silence. They sit and listen to the soft wind.

It's Yang, who always finds something to say. Though this time, it's not anything Blake expects to hear.

"I think I remember how I died," Yang tells her out of the blue. It's a bit jarring, to hear something like that in real life.

"It was raining," Yang starts to recollect. Her hands are shaking slightly, and her eyebrows are scrunched together in light of the memory. "I remember it was raining and I was trying to cross the road. I think I was in a hurry to get somewhere."

She keeps her eyes away from Blake, staring straight ahead at the sunset.

At this point, there's no telling what Yang will say next, but Blake knows it's best to let things run their course. She tilts her head, offers a small smile, letting her know that she's here and she's listening.

"I feel like there's someone I should know," Yang confesses. "Someone important. She's always in the back of my mind, but she keeps slipping away every time I come close."

And Blake feels her heart break. She wishes she could do more than just words.

"You'll figure it out," says Blake, making sure her voice is strong and is heard. "I believe in you."

Trust. Faith. She accepts this all without comment.

Yang stares at her, long and hard. She takes in another sharp breath.

"Thank you for today," Yang carries on quietly. "It's been a rough week, I think you know that already."

She does. Yang has no idea how much she _does_.

"But you know what, Blake?" She doesn't expect it when Yang's eyes find hers. "You make everything feel like it's worth it."

At that moment, Yang is beyond words, beyond any sense of a human touch. She feels like nothing and yet everything at once. Blake feels the air whoosh out of her.

The world stops. The trees take a breath. Blake reaches forward but stops. Her hand hovers awkwardly over Yang’s own. There's an odd tingle rising through her arm.

Yang is on her feet suddenly. She isn't back entirely, but she looks as content as she can be.

"I'll see you back at home," she says, and that's honestly the last thing Blake wants to hear. She wants to tell her to stay, how easily her absence sends her shivering. She has it in her to start, not to finish.

The thing about love is that she must speak the utter truth, and it's only after Yang has left that Blake realizes this is the lesson. But maybe she's wrong. Maybe she never knows what she really wants. She only wants what she wants while she's wanting them.

-

Blake waits at the bar. She's not exactly in a talking mood when her friend finally shows up at their table.

“I’m late, aren't I?” Weiss sighs as she sits down in front of her. She's still wearing a white hospital gown over her clothes, and her hair's tied up in a messy ponytail.

Blake remembers how Weiss used to be, back in high school, with her perfect hair, her perfect punctuality, her perfect grades, and her perfectly intolerable smile. They've come a long way since then, now that Weiss couldn't care less what she looks like if it means she could catch a break from the ER.

"How have you been?" Weiss asks her, breathing with a winded smile. "Sorry, I've been absolutely swamped at work."

It's been a month or two since they last met, but with Weiss's insane schedule, and Blake's recent move, it's always been hard to settle on a date.

"I've missed you," Blake tells her, and like it is with old friends, they fall back into their natural rhythm.

Weiss asks her about the normal things, how work is, how the move went, how she's been adjusting in a new city, and if Sun has been bugging her.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Weiss, for some reason, always wants to know. Blake thinks it's sweet that she worries, but honestly, it's not necessary.

“Not since you set me up," she shrugs. Weiss frowns, but she doesn't inquire any further, which is abnormal for her character.

"And you?" Blake replies with a tired smile. "Are you still giving everyone else a hard time?"

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Weiss responds with that signature look of indignation. "I'm fairly easy going nowadays, _believe_ me."

And then, she goes off on a tangent about a fellow resident, who keeps making the same stupid mistake of misplacing hospital charts. Blake is listening to her, vaguely. She doesn't want to be rude, but she can't help it when her real thoughts feel like they're a mile away.

She orders another drink.

"What's wrong?" Weiss notices at once. "You're spacing out more than usual."

"It's nothing," Blake deflects out of habit.

She's not fine. A couple of drinks in and she's starting to feel a little tipsy. Weiss is watching her, surprised. Blake's never been much of a drinker, and Weiss has never touched a drop of alcohol in her entire life.

"You wouldn't believe the week I've had," Blake tries to explain herself.

"Well, what is it?" Weiss huffs impatiently. "You're being overly dramatic."

Blake takes a second. She thinks about the past few weeks, and really, she should just quit her job and write a book. It's enough to fill at least a hundred pages.

"I'm living with a ghost, Weiss," Blake blurts out. "Like, I'm _actually_ living with a real-life ghost."

And it's easy, really. Because Weiss is an old friend. They've known each other for  _years_. Weiss is quiet, and calm, and caring if needs be. She'll listen to her talk about _feelings_ and stuff, even if she doesn't particularly enjoy it.

It's also probably a good thing, that Blake is at least four drinks in now, because this isn't something she's willing to discuss sober, and Weiss is not in the least a spiritual person. 

"Did you join some sort of cult?" Weiss replies. She looks like she doesn't appreciate the joke. Except, it's not a joke. This is Blake's life for crying out loud.

"I don't know what to do," Blake goes on in a weak voice. "I can't keep doing this to myself."

"Okay, you are clearly drunk," Weiss stops her, looking concerned.

"But I'm not," Blake snaps back defensively, even though she feels like her head weighs in stones and her heart is starting to burn.

"She's real." _She's as real as it gets._ "Her name is Yang and I think I'm falling in love with her."

Weiss looks at her, really looks at her. She falls silent as if she knows enough not to laugh.

"What did you say?" Weiss finally asks her, and her eyes are wide and frightening. She looks scared, too. Blake doesn't understand why. She's about to ask when she hears a beeping sound coming from Weiss's purse.

Weiss pulls out her pager. She stares at it, looking conflicted, but she pockets it anyway and starts to get up from her chair.

“I have to go," she says grimly. "I’m sorry, it’s the hospital.”

Blake nods, giving her a long thin smile.

"Call me," Weiss orders her before she goes. "We'll talk later."

-

Blake stays behind for an hour longer.

It's what she needs. A little time to think. A little time to be alone.

Then comes over her another change. It's abrupt, but she decides maybe she almost owes it to Yang.

She doesn't trust easily, and she doesn't care. Sometimes, there are people out there who are worth the risk. Take it. That's what being human is all about.

Once she gets it off her chest, once Yang sees her for what she is, maybe they will both come to their senses and understand that this was a mistake. This was an agreement they never should've started from the beginning. At least then, Blake would know.

She walks back home, slowly and quietly, with a strange self-possession of bravery. She walks through the front door, fresh courage in her veins.

"Yang, listen. I need to-" Blake pauses when she realizes that she's alone. "Yang?"

She looks around the apartment and there's an eerie silence ringing in her ears.

It's not like Yang has never just disappeared before without a warning. She'll pop back again soon enough. She'll walk through that wall like it's no big deal and scare the living daylights out of Blake. Blake doesn't doubt it for a second. 

The clock ticks loudly overhead. She sits still on the sofa mattress. The shadows find her in the corner, and for the first time since she's met Yang, Blake can't fall asleep.

In the morning, the house remains silent. Yang is still gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm sorry but I'm also not sorry...


	4. Chapter 4

Blake is staring at the clock. There's no reason for her to check the time again, it's only been two minutes since she last did, and time doesn't feel like it's passing any differently. There's nothing wrong, no excuse that she can possibly turn to.

It's almost noon, and she should have done something productive by now, but instead, she's been sitting beside an empty chair, staring at an empty apartment, watching the minutes tick by.

For a moment, Blake is horrified to find out what this means. She begins to wonder. It's possible that Yang's remembered something. She must have, and now she's passed on to the next world, or reincarnated, or whatever it is happens to ghosts in the afterlife.

If that's the case, then like she said before, she's _happy_ for Yang. She really is. And honestly, Blake doesn't even want to think about this anymore. It's been a headache, a constant worry in the back of her mind. Blake can't remember the last time she lost sleep, thinking about something other than herself or her work. Maybe it was a nice change, for a little while, to have someone to talk to, to have someone to care for, but it's time to go back to the way things were.

She ignores the part of her that's lingering to doubt.

Why now? Why couldn't she have said goodbye?

-

In Yang's absence, life returns to normal. 

Blake keeps herself busy. She works late at the office, for as long as possible. She orders takeout food for dinner. She's back to eating, drinking, and reading in complete silence.

It's easier to pretend than to admit that things won't ever be the same, not like before when she knew nothing about the world. Because no matter how hard Blake tries not to think about it, her mind fills with thoughts of Yang, where she might be, what she might be doing.

She unravels at the slightest of sound. Blake sits up in the middle of the night. She hears footsteps, but it’s coming from upstairs. She hears laughter, but the voice is not hers. Ever since Yang left, she’s always listening for it. She closes her eyes and waits. For what, she doesn’t know. It’s a game she likes to play. It's a strange kind of comfort in the dark.

Blake has no idea when she started allowing herself to hope. She doesn’t like it. She avoids it like the plague and walks off in the opposite direction. So, it’s just her luck that she’d be late to realize this too. She’s late to everything, in fact. She fears that Yang will be the same. Another mistake. Another missed opportunity.

And maybe this really is the end. If so, Blake does all that she can to accept it. Yang was  _supposed_  to be gone. It’s better to deal with it now than obsess over some fantasy that would never happen. It’s the universe doing her one simple favor.

It’s fine, Blake insists. She says it, in protest against the delusion into which she’s fallen.

It’s fine.

It’s  _fine_.

-

On the second night, Blake dreams.

She knows it’s a dream because she’s not alone. Yang is standing in front of her, and Blake can  _feel_  her, touch her. Her skin, her hair. It’s not fair of her to make this all so suddenly real.

There are no sounds, no words. Blake wants to tell her what she’s realized, the thoughts she took for granted until Yang decided to change everything without her consent. It's screaming inside of her, waiting to let loose, but her throat feels scratchy and her tongue tastes like lead.

It's disappearing like Blake knew it would, like Yang, like the ghost that she truly is. But did she really have to prove it so?

Yang holds her gaze. Blake pulls focus on them, on the parts that are more than just significant pauses. It’s all that she has, in a room full of silhouettes.

She’s mouthing something to her, but it’s muffled, as though they’re six feet under water. “I’ll see you back at home,” she had said. “I’ll be waiting,” Blake had believed.

It’s not enough to keep Yang there, to turn dreams into a reality. She’s too far gone, and when she leaves, she takes everything with her. The color, the afternoon light begins to fade.

She wakes with dreadful insight, in the darkness, nothing but an empty room, and her bed is bereft of any warmth.

It’s cold and there’s an evening breeze blowing inside her room. She looks out the window she hadn't bothered to close. She sees the moon and imagines Yang, sitting there on the crescent. Blake wonders.  _Are you there, somewhere in this endless sky?_

Her mind starts to exaggerate the silence. It’s long and ghostly.

“Go back to sleep,” she tells herself.  _Just_   _let me be. Just set me free._

-

Blake remembers how quickly she left the house. Escaping had been nothing. Forgetting, that was always the harder part.

It feels like her house is haunted, and it’s not a ghost this time, it’s  _her_. She looks out her bedroom door and all she sees is Yang. She tricks herself without meaning to. She chances a glance over her shoulders but the shadows are already gone.

Blake is not herself. She's tired, with a constant, all-consuming expression on her face. She isn’t paying attention when Sun asks her out for lunch. She doesn’t even remember agreeing, but maybe a part of her knew she shouldn’t be at home. A part of her knew she didn’t want to be alone.

“Hey,” Sun greets her. With one word, his voice gives away his concern. Blake tries her best. She looks up at him, wearing a smile, a gesture that’s neither here nor there.

He notices the bags under her eyes, the emptiness hidden behind them.

“What’s wrong?” Sun asks soon enough. And she’s  _fine_ , Blake answers in a tone that seems to be fooling no one.

“Well, fine doesn’t mean 'fine' when it's with you,” he points out evenly. “You think I don’t know you, Blake?”

And, sure, maybe now’s not the time to be impressed with Sun’s sudden no-nonsense attitude, because Blake worries where the conversation will be heading next, the questions that are bound to follow.

“Where’s Yang?” he reaches out tentatively. Blake remains still, letting the silence speak in her stead.

It’s not enough for Sun, who leans forward in his chair, waiting impatiently.

“She’s gone,” Blake admits, without bothering to look up.

“Gone?” Sun echoes her in disbelief. “What happened? What do you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she’s not coming back,” she says again sharply. It takes every bit of self-control that she has, not to throw the fork in her hands. She doesn't want to talk about it. It all resurfaces when she does. It reaches deep inside of her, takes her in ways she didn't know that could hurt. 

"But why?” Sun asks, his voice strangely still. And Blake glares at him, wondering which part of him thought it’d be okay to raise such a question. It’s obvious. Because she had to, Sun, she  _had_  to.

Except that’s not what she wants either. That’s just the answer she assumes.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. She’s still wishing it were anything but  _that_.

“It’s fine, really,” Blake tries to convince herself. “It was time. It's for the best.”

Sun is watching her face carefully. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t blink. Instead, he gives her hand a short squeeze. 

“I think she was good for you,” he tells her. The message being: She'll be back. Have a little faith.

“You don't understand,” Blake says, but she doesn’t explain any further. She wants Yang back. Of course, she does. But Blake can’t do this a second time. She doesn’t have it in her to ever say goodbye.

-

By the end of the week, Blake is sure she's gone crazy.

The lack of sleep keeps her sluggish and uncooperative all morning. It's starting to affect her work, and she leaves the office every night with a defeated sort of sigh.

She hasn't replied to Sun's many, many annoying texts. She's called Weiss once and left an obligatory voice message. She explained how there was nothing for her to worry about, asking Weiss to forget about everything she's heard, now that it doesn't matter anymore.

It's late when Blake returns to the apartment that day. She closes us all the doors, all the windows. She shuts the curtains and curls up in bed, prepared for another dreadful experience of sleepless sleep.

And that's when she hears a sound. A low thump.

She opens her eyes and there's an outline of a figure, sitting across from her bed. Blake recognizes her, even in the darkness. She hates that she can. This isn't a dream anymore; it's a nightmare.

"Go away," Blake begs of it. Her words are spiteful and tiresome, rolling off her tongue like a primed grenade.

Yang looks at her, saddened and confused. Blake could feel the bitterness inside her, the guilt. But she shoves it back in time. Blake pulls a blanket over her face. She shuts her out, just the same. 

But now she hears another sound. It’s a quiet breath, and it's different from before. She catches a voice - a voice she remembers.

“Blake,” Yang calls for her, speaking barely above a whisper.

There's a sudden movement. Blake hurries to stand, grabbing and turning on the lamp. It takes a moment, for her eyes to adjust to the light. Then she figures out, for certain, that this isn't just another dream.

Blake stays there, shell-shocked for a couple of seconds.  _She's here._ Yang is _here._ And it can't be true for all she knows. Not with her luck, infinite in its ability to disappoint.

She reaches for Yang, worried that she'd disappear again if she did not do so. Her hand passes right through, once she tries. There's a new aura to Yang. Distant. Alien. She looks only half-there, and she's more transparent than Blake remembers her.

Blake looks away, feeling rightfully upset. Her eyes are moving restlessly around the room. Anywhere, it seems, but Yang. She can’t stop shaking, and she tries to tell herself it’s only because of the cold, not the fear that’s left her shivering in her bones. It makes her braver than she really feels.

She’s ready, to give Yang a piece of her mind. She can’t find the words, but she recognizes how she’s feeling – she’s angry, she’s happy, she’s heartbroken, she’s relieved – she’s everything all at once.

“I’m so sorry,” Yang is starting to ramble. “I wanted to come back sooner. I would have, but I just didn’t know how. It’s like sometimes there’s a force pulling me back and I can’t seem to move.”

All the while she’s talking, her eyes are staring at Blake, and only at Blake. It's distracting because Blake is concentrating so much on not falling in love. But Yang doesn’t know that. Yang doesn’t think to stop _._

“Blake?” Yang asks her delicately. “Say something, please?”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and Blake realizes she hasn’t said a word since her return. The pain, though faded, was still ever-present, and the memories of the past few days were starting to weigh her down.

"Yang," she whispers, and it sounds wrong, like the name itself is rusty from disuse.

"Um... Yeah. Hi," Yang says awkwardly.

“You’re back,” Blake manages, her voice strangled. There isn’t anything left to acknowledge but that.

Yang keeps still, waiting with bated breath. It’s a distance worth keeping. Blake knows better. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again. She tries to be reasonable and fails. It shouldn’t be this hard to be happy, Blake thinks.

“I know how this is going to end,” Blake makes up her mind. “I know you’re going to disappear someday.”

She’s not resentful. That’s inevitable.

“I  _know_  that but...” Blake looks at her, eyes watering. “Please don’t leave me again.”

She realizes mid-sentence that maybe she’s giving too much of herself away. She's exposing herself. She's bearing her heart and her wounds. Then again, Blake doesn’t care about subtlety. She just wants Yang.

She almost expects Yang to walk away, in shock, in disgust, but Yang’s never been quicker to react. She’s at Blake’s side in an instant, and she wraps her arms around her, taking Blake into a last-ditch, do-or-die embrace. It’s not everything, but it comes close. It doesn’t matter if they can’t touch. Yang would if she could, and that’s all that Blake needs in order to feel.

"I missed you too," Yang declares. She speaks as though she means it, but knows that she shouldn't. It may be out of her control, and yet she wants to be anything but selfish.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yang says into her ear. She sounds anxious, desperate even.  _You already have._  Blake thinks. It hurts. Everything hurts. _So stay a little longer this time, and make me forget._

The answer is there, in Yang's eyes as they are searching for hers. Together or nothing, she promises. But there's more to tell, Blake catches on. There’s something inside of Yang, a troubling emotion, attempting to claim her whole if she stayed still long enough.

"What is it?" Blake asks, and Yang looks down at the floor, biting her lips.

“I remembered something," she says.

-

It's a moonlit night.

Blake and Yang walk side-by-side. Each step they take is cautious and wary. They both know what's lying ahead of the road, and though neither of them is ready to face it, it's something they must be brave for.

They haven't talked much since then. It's hard to, after a revelation like that. Blake insisted on going, regardless of Yang's level of stalling. "You need to do this," Blake had told her, and Yang had no choice but to agree.

Yang hasn't gotten any better at hiding her nerves, but she catches Blake looking and shoots her a quick smile. Blake responds with a smile of her own before returning her gaze back to the pavement. It's so familiar, she can pretend like the past few days didn't exist.

It takes several minutes. They're a number of blocks away from the apartment when Yang turns the corner and stops.

“We’re here,” she says, and they stare up at the sign of an old fitness center.

For a few moments, they brew in the quiet.

"So... Do we just walk in?" Blake brings up, sensing her hesitation.

Yang doesn't look sure. She rubs at her temple and starts to pace in front of the door. Because turning back now means not knowing, but it also means safety, it means comfort from the risk of remembering something she wishes she could forget. But Yang is sick of running, and so is Blake.

"It's okay." Blake inches closer to her. "I'm here for you." 

Yang smiles in a way that says thank you. “I need you. I need you more than ever.”

They help each other take in a steadying breath, then calmly walk through the glass doors. 

The place has emptied after hours. There's nobody at the front counter, and Blake walks past through a hallway of chipped paint and mirrors. It's nothing special, just the same assortment of training equipment, a few sandbags hanging down from the ceiling.

She pays attention to Yang, who navigates herself around the room. She stops in front of the boxing ring and stands there for the longest time. There’s a faraway look on her face. Blake waits patiently from behind. 

“Can I help you?” a voice suddenly interrupts them. 

Blake whips her head around, clearly startled. But Yang just stands there, her hand frozen in mid-air, reaching for something, a memory.

"What's wrong?" Blake asks in an undertone.

Yang doesn't meet her eyes. She shakes her head, looking forward.

“It's Ruby,” she breathes.

“Who?” Blake questions, but Yang doesn’t seem to hear her, or if she did, she doesn’t comment on it. Slowly, she turns herself around, staring at the girl who’s walked into view.

The girl is an inch shorter, with reddish-brown hair curling near her cheeks. She appears younger than Blake and looks even smaller up close, wearing an oversized hoodie that doesn’t seem to belong to her. Her eyes are round and silver, but there’s darkness lying inside, like pockets full of shadows.

Yang watches her, bug-eyed, her body carved in stone. She stands there like she’s waiting for a miracle, and something in Blake clicks into place.  _Oh, there you are._ _Yang’s missing piece._

“Ruby, I-” Yang starts to say, but the girl isn’t listening. Her eyes are fixed on Blake, confused, not far from bothered. Ruby takes another step forward and Yang passes right through her.

“Are you looking for someone?” Ruby suggests. Blake doesn’t know what to say. She’s counting on Yang, whose back is still turned to her, shoulders sagged, limbs dropped.

“I was wondering if I…” Blake gathers her thoughts and comes to her senses. “If I could talk to you about Yang?”

She doesn't know what she's expecting, what kind of reaction she's hoping for, or what kind of person Ruby might be.

Ruby lifts her chin, clenches her jaw. There’s a change in her eyes; wide and open, fixed and glassy. They’re a shade darker, even in the light. Blake just wants to find another hole to hide in. Then their eyes lock together, and Blake knows she can no longer rely on the silence.

“How do you know my sister?” Ruby sort of asks, sort of demands. Blake, secretly, lets out a breath of relief. She's her _sister_. Of course.

“I was a friend from school,” Blake decides to fabricate a story. She’s nervous and speaks with a form of confidence she doesn’t feel at all. “We knew each other very briefly, but we were quite…close,” she explains, much too vaguely.

Ruby doesn't look very convinced.

“So, who _are_ you?” she asks again, her eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m Blake,” she answers hastily. “Blake Belladonna.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and then Ruby gives her a short begrudging nod. “Well, your name sounds kind of familiar.”

Blake doesn’t know _how_ that’s even possible, but she’s not complaining.

“Okay, Blake,” Ruby sighs. She still sounds a bit skeptical, but her appearance looks considerably subdued. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Blake looks back at Yang. Yang, who seems exhausted. Yang, who takes in another ragged breath. Her face remains blank, but she nods in acceptance.

“Tell her I’m sorry,” Yang asks quietly, her voice broken. “I’m just… I’m _sorry_ , Ruby.”

There’s an unspoken understanding between them. It’s a silent promise, a wordless plea. Blake knows that look too well. She's been there. She's lived through it.  _It's my responsibility._  Yang is thinking. _It's my fault-_

Blake turns away. She resists the urge to run up and take Yang back into her arms. It must be too much for her, to be here, standing a foot away from a loved one, and having no way of communicating that back. But this was the choice Yang had made. And the only thing that Blake could do was see it through.

Ruby clears her throat. She looks concerned now, wondering if she should call a doctor for this teary-eyed stranger who refuses to speak.

“Please, don’t ask me how I know this,” Blake starts poorly. “I just need you to understand something."

Ruby doesn't answer, but she isn't stopping her either.

"Yang wanted to let you know that she’s sorry. For- For everything,” Blake says, and there's a notable pause. “Your sister was a wonderful person, Ruby... I’m very lucky to have gotten to know her. And I’m sure if she was here now, she’d want you to know that she loved you very much.”

For a moment, Ruby remains speechless. Yang gives her a weak smile, a look of gratitude, perhaps. But Blake herself prepares for the worst as the room fills with the sound of restless silence.

“Is this a joke?” Ruby asks abruptly. Her voice is angry, for the most part.

“No. No, not at all,” Blake reasons. She shakes her head and tries to start over again. “I just mean that-”

“I don’t think you understand,” Ruby cuts her off. There’s a long pause as she stares at Blake plainly. “My sister isn’t dead.”

It's sudden and unexpected. 

The truth drops into the room and hangs there for a second. Blake feels her vision closing in, as the words steal over her, sinking into her, like sickness or swallowed water.

“What?” Blake finally breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you are, Yang!
> 
> Oh. There you are, Ruby!
> 
> P.S. Over 300 Kudos! Thank you guys so much for reading :) If you have any thoughts/comments/prompts feel free to message me anytime!


	5. Chapter 5

It’s the furthest thing from easy. Blake wants to say something but her words feel like they’re slipping into a pit of sand. The world doesn't wait for her to stop and take a breath.

“She’s in the hospital,” Ruby explains in a quiet voice. Her face twists in pain, like one miserable knot. “We thought we were going to lose her this week, but she’s stable now.”

“I don’t understand,” Blake whispers without meaning to. “How is she alive?”

Ruby stiffens in reply. It’s a very poor choice of words, Blake realizes. She's making it sound as though Yang  _shouldn't_  be alive, as if the news of her existence has put some sort of a damper on her plans.

No, Blake is just trying to think and somehow  _process_ all at once. It's too soon to be anything but confused. Because Yang is still standing in the middle of the room, looking as lost as she can possibly be. Because everything they've been through, everything they accepted and believed in for the past few weeks has now lost its foundation.

“Please, which hospital is she staying at?” Blake has to know. She feels her throat closing up again, but she needs to ask this above all else. “I _need_ to see her.”

It's a lot to appeal for and Ruby looks understandably mistrustful of her. “You didn’t even know she was alive,” she points out as if this was Blake’s greatest flaw. That this one mistake has defined everything she ever needs to know about Blake’s character.

“No, please, it isn't like that." And Blake begins to say the first thing that comes to mind. "I know your sister. I know Yang. She's been living in my apartment for the past month now.”

She marvels at her own courage because in what universe would that even make sense? Ruby is looking at her, like how people normally look at mad people, with an expression of fright and a safe distance spaced in between them.

“I realize this sounds crazy but you have to believe me," Blake tries anyway. "Yang is  _here._ I can’t explain how or why. But for whatever reason, I've been able to communicate with her this whole time.”

There's a long pause, and Ruby takes in a deep breath. For a second, against all odds, Blake thinks that she’s gotten through to her. Then Ruby's face hardens. She turns away from her, breaking the tension.

“I think we're done talking,” she says flatly.

But Blake's never felt more outspoken about anything. She has it in her to say a thousand more, powered by a sense of urgency that laid hidden inside her.

“If you could just hear me out-"

“That’s  _enough_ ,” Ruby snaps. Her voice is thick but it’s controlled. In her eyes, there’s a burning fire behind the unshed tears. They train themselves onto Blake.  _Leave._ They seem to say.

She considers resisting, but then Blake takes a moment to notice that Yang isn't there anymore. She’s left the conversation, as should as it began.

-

Unexpectedly, Yang is waiting for her outside the door.

Her lips are locked together in a frown, her eyes blank and expressionless. She’s gone pale, but Blake doesn’t know what that’s indicative of anymore. She wishes she could read Yang’s mind. She almost feels like she should be able to, with their connection, with their secrets, with their whispered promises that go unanswered in the dark.

“I think that went  _really_  well,” Yang says without warning. “Don’t you think?”

It isn’t a real question, so Blake doesn’t answer. For once, Yang’s smile isn’t pleasant, and her voice is harsh and grating.

She’s angry, and rightfully so. Blake feels it too. Just a different kind. At first, it sits inside of her like a stone. Then it crawls up the back of her throat, and it gives way to something much worse.

A part of Blake feels as though she's failed Yang. She shouldn't have given up so soon. She should head back inside, asking, begging Ruby to listen, despite the risk of sounding even crazier.

Then her thoughts are broken by Yang's next outburst.

“So, apparently, I’m  _not_  dead,” Yang says, and her voice is a bit too loud to be calm. "I'm lying in a hospital bed somewhere, probably dying."

Yang tries kicking a nearby pebble and it passes through her foot. She makes a confused, distressed sound, and then begins to pace around the block.

“I mean, that sure explains how I’m standing here, talking to you when no one else can.” Yang laughs darkly and she can’t seem to stop. "Because Ruby sure as hell couldn’t!”

The street lights flicker dangerously from above. Yang stops herself, rearing back at the revelation of her own words.

It wasn't a simple, offhanded comment. Blake suspects that it’s  _the_  answer, the reason for why Yang can’t seem to control herself, why she feels as though the universe has somehow done her wrong. If it should be anyone, it should be  _Ruby_.

Blake wonders if that's what Yang's been thinking all along. Blake wonders if it’s selfish to disagree.

“Sorry,” Yang says shakily. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

Blake nods in silence. She wants to say something, but a part of her has been waiting for a moment such as this, for things that need to be said out loud, no matter the complications they may bring.

“I know I’m supposed to be happy, or grateful, or something along those lines." Yang's voice grows quiet and sullen with every turn. “But I’m just scared, Blake.”

"It's okay," Blake says back in a willful whisper. "You’re  _alive._ That’s all that should matter right now."

Yang’s eyes glaze over as she stares, and Blake can see what’s been torn apart. There are no immediate agreements or admissions or reassurances. Instead, Yang staggers around her, dropping down onto the dirty sidewalk. Blake sits down next to her, not noticing the gazes that she's drawn.

“I left her all alone,” Yang confesses in a hollow tone. “I promised her I would never do that."

The lights waver again.

Loneliness, Blake knows. She's swallowed it down like a pitcher of poison. It's not something she wishes upon anyone. Yang must understand, from all the time she's spent on her own, wandering and waiting. No, she doesn't want to see that in Ruby's eyes.

"I have to do _something_ ," Yang says through gritted teeth. It's the only conclusion, and she pauses before looking over at Blake with her new resolve. "I can still fix this."

It isn’t over yet. Because in all the chaos, Yang is hopeful. It’s just sometimes she loses her way, and she needs the right push.

“Now we find you,” Blake agrees. “Now we take you home.”

-

It’s natural, for things to fall back into place. Though it isn’t in their best interest to dwell in the past. For now, they must move forward.

Blake recalls how they first met, how the less she knew about Yang, the better off she thought she’d be. If only she understood then, that it's a choice of hers she would never regret.

There's a new plan. They'll head out to Ruby's house in the morning. Now that Yang remembers, it's not a matter of tracking her down. The problem is what Blake's expected to say once they get there.

“I remember,” Blake hears, and when Yang talks about Ruby, the edge in her voice turns into a specific kind of gentle. “She just fits. It’s like she’s always been there but I didn’t know where to look."

“What's she like?” Blake asks, looking at her in interest, and it’s all the motivation Yang needs to keep going.

She launches into stories after stories, and they’re unlike anything Blake's heard from her before, because there are names, and appearances, and details. It’s all connected, and each of the pieces she’s lost comes together to form the perfect picture.

Yang goes on for a long time.

A floodgate has broken. She’s on such a roll that Blake wonders if she’s already managed to learn everything she can about Ruby Rose. The girl who loves to read, draw stories, and consume anything with an even slightest ounce of sugar. How she cares so much about the world and the people around her, a fact that Yang seems to be proud of the most.

Blake listens with intent. She’s curious, undoubtedly, and learning more about Ruby means coming closer to figuring out Yang, filling up the crevice that’s become a great part of all her thoughts.

There are things that Blake already knows, habits and quirks that she’s found out for herself, and then there are new truths. Like how she practically raised her younger sister, all on her own. How she used to work as a fitness trainer at the local gym. How she likes to act tough, but she won't ever get a tattoo because she’s secretly afraid of needles.

There are sides to Yang that Blake was aware of, a vulnerability she hides and never speaks of. Blake may never have understood, not unless she heard about Yang’s family, or lack of one, her immeasurable love for Ruby, and how she wishes her sister hadn’t grown up so soon; she’s afraid of ending up alone.

“Then is your last name Rose?” Blake ponders. She's only just realized that this is the first time hearing Yang's full name.

“Actually, it’s Xiao Long,” replies Yang with a ghost of a smile. “Yang Xiao Long. My dad told me it means a little sun dragon."

And honestly, it's a much suitable name for someone like her. It's warm to the touch, close enough to burn.

“Ruby and I are half-sisters,” Yang explains, and she shifts uncomfortably on her side. “My mom left me when I was really young. My birth mother, anyway. Her name was Raven.”

She says the last sentence in restraint, as though she's been angry about it her entire life, and now she's too tired to even exert the effort. Blake falls quiet after that.

“I guess that’s one memory I could’ve lived without,” Yang reflects with a sad tone and a contradicting smile.

They lie together in bed, eventually words falling behind the comfort of silence.

Blake wonders if she’s allowed to spend the rest of her time, filling it with thoughts and stories of someone else’s life. It doesn't feel wrong when Yang welcomes her in so easily.

“How does it feel? To find yourself again,” Blake whispers to herself, and Yang turns to face her, lips curled in mild amusement.

“It's nice, I guess,” she answers idly, as though this was no big deal, as though she hadn't just figured out her entire identity in one fell swoop.

Then she frowns and maybe thinks it over again.

“Do I seem different to you?” Yang asks, and it sounds as though she's surprised herself. It's never even occurred to her before, that people are prone to change, and fate, as it first brought them together, could be working to drive them apart.

“No,” Blake tells her. “Nothing’s changed.”

Except, perhaps, for the better.

It's not meant to be, Blake used to tell herself, despite the quickening pace of her pulse. And yet, the future has never felt so promising. There’s hope, and it’s breathtakingly beautiful, it tastes marvelous, it’s as addictive as the color of Yang’s eyes.

It doesn’t take long for Blake to realize this, and Yang seems to think so too.

Their thoughts sink deeper into the night.

A part of Blake doesn’t want to fall asleep. It’s not like the type of insomnia she's used to, the ones faced alone on cold evenings, with a vacant apartment and even emptier thoughts that take her prisoner.

It feels right this time. It feels important to stay conscious.

As always, Yang notices her struggle. 

"Go to sleep," she says softly, with a caring smile.

"You'll be here?” Blake asks quietly.

"I'll be here," Yang promises, and together they drift off into the darkness.

-

It's a strange morning.

Blake hasn't slept this comfortably in months. She sinks her face lower into the blankets. She delights in the warmth, and she doesn't want it to end, not ever.

A minute later, Blake's phone begins to vibrate. She ignores it, for good reasons.

It's only after the eleventh buzz that she finally reaches out, fumbling for her phone that's lying somewhere on the nightstand.

"Hello?" Blake answers into her pillow, drowsy and irritable.

“I need you to come down to the hospital,” a voice demands. It's sharp, and a little too much to be hearing so early in the morning.

"Weiss?” Blake frowns, once she recognizes who it is. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She doesn't hear a response, not for a while anyway, and Blake starts to sit up, heart beating fast in her chest. Because what if she was right? Why else would Weiss be calling at this hour?

Then Weiss says something completely out of the ordinary.

“Did you meet with someone named Ruby Rose?”

A pause. Blake wonders if she's still half-asleep. Surely, she must have heard her wrong.

"How did you know about that?" Blake asks, but there's a lot of noise interfering in the background.

"I can't explain this over the phone," Weiss huffs impatiently. "Just get your ass over here. I'm texting you the address right now."

Then she hangs up as if that's that.

"Weiss," Blake grumbles to herself. "Always with the blunt approach."

She glances over at the clock and realizes that she's slept in, for much longer than they planned. Lying back down in her bed, Blake sees, with latent realization, that Yang has not disappeared. She's next to her, lying sideways, loosely transparent through the linen sheets.

"Yang?" Blake leans toward her. "It's already noon."

"Do we have to get up?" Yang asks, her eyes still closed. She's grinning slightly because Blake knows she's not  _actually_ asleep.

"I think my friend might know something." Blake hesitates. "She asked me to meet her at the hospital."

"Right... Just give me a second." Yang blinks, but she doesn't move an inch away from her face. And suddenly Blake is conscious of everything, how she must look, her face, her messy bed hair, the shadows under her eyes.

"What is it?" Blake says, because Yang has stopped talking and now they're both staring at each other.

"I'm just taking it all in," Yang replies. Her face gets tight for a moment, like she’s trying to remember what she means to say. Then she smiles. "You're nice to look at, you know?"

"I didn't even brush my teeth," Blake says, mostly to herself, but Yang must have heard her quite clearly. She lets out a soft chuckle. 

"If that's your idea of flirting, I can see why you're still single," says Yang, playfully. She reaches out with a single fingertip and traces something along the lines of Blake's heart.

"I wasn't flirting," Blake says back, but this time she doesn't move out of the way.

Yang also remains still, waiting for the light moment to pass. It began as a joke, but there seems to be more that she desires to say.

"Hey, Blake?" Yang studies her intently. "When is it the right time to say something?"

She sucks in a hushed breath.

"It depends on what you have to say." Blake stares, biting her lip. She comes closer and places her hand on top of Yang's arm. She feels the same shiver. An irrepressible shudder.

Blake knows what she wants.

_I've fallen in love with you._

Yang looks back at her.

_I've fallen in love with you too._

-

If only they could have stayed in bed, Blake thinks to herself once they arrive.

Hospitals have always been unbearable.

Blake hates the way they smell. It's clean, too clean and chemical. It stings her nose and distracts her with unpleasant thoughts. Blake doesn’t understand how Weiss can deal with it every day.

"Where do we go?" Yang asks as they stand around in the lobby. She looks a bit twitchy, and Blake can assume why.

"She's waiting for us on the third floor," Blake replies.

And it's tense, as they walk up those three flights of stairs. They look around the corridor, as if not knowing what to expect.

Soon enough, they reach the designated room, four doors down to the left. They exchange a quick glance before Blake reaches for the door handle. She quietly steps inside.

The room is oppressively silent.

There's an unexpected scent of flowers, and a vase of sunflowers are sitting near the entrance. Blake sees a small cart full of chocolates, gift boxes, and a mountain of get-well cards, each of them signed in cursive writing.

She walks forward, and her eyes fall upon the only other human being in the room. There's a young woman, lying on the white hospital bed. Blake catches a glimpse of her bright blonde hair.

Her heart falls through her stomach. She stops dead in her tracks, too afraid to move.

"Is that...?" Yang murmurs from behind.

“It’s you," Blake gasps. "It's really you..."

But it's not the same person Blake has come to know. She's tangible. She has a physical form. 

In a way, she's less real than the ghost Blake understands. Gone are the ripped jeans, black leather jacket. It's a clean hospital gown, wiped of personalities, and there's an oxygen mask obscuring half her face.

This Yang is motionless. She's breathing, but she isn't living. Blake can't find any words to describe it. A part of her wants to step closer, and a part of her wants to leave.

"Okay." Yang, thankfully, breaks the silence. "This is beyond creepy."

It's _surreal_. Blake watches as Yang walks up to her own body, fascinated and petrified at the same time.

She lifts up a hand, and for a second it seems as though there would be an instant connection between the body and the soul. But her hand slips, her fingers run through her arm, and Yang lets out a small curse of frustration.

"Oh, good," says a dry voice. "You're here."

Blake turns around abruptly and finds Weiss, standing there by the door. She's in scrubs, with a medical chart pinned under her arm. Needless to say, Blake is about to ask her "how the hell?" when Yang, surprisingly, beats her to the chase.

"Wait. Weiss?” Yang doubles back. “Weiss Schnee? She's the friend you were talking about?"

"You know her?" Blake frowns and she forgets that Weiss can't hear their side of the conversation. She's much too shocked to care.

“Seriously? That's Ruby's girlfriend," Yang nearly shouts. "They've been dating for a couple of months now!"

“You’re dating Yang’s sister?” Blake faces Weiss in horror.

There are a million different things running through her mind. Now is probably not the best time to interrogate Weiss about her secret love life, but it's just _too_ uncanny of a situation to be a mere coincidence.

At her outburst, Weiss looks concerned and confused and contemplative, all at the same time. But before she can speak, the door opens again and Weiss spins on her heels. 

A familiar figure sweeps into the room.

“It's you!” says a different voice, and now it's Ruby who rounds on her, eyes lit with anger and disturbance. Instinctively, she puts herself in between Weiss and Blake.

“Leave us alone!” Ruby warns her, and they are definitely not using their inside voices anymore. “I’ve got a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it!”

She threatens Blake, grabbing whatever's closest to her on the spot. 

“Ruby," Weiss sighs. "Put down the lamp.”

“No! Stay behind me, Weiss!" Ruby demands. She's still holding onto the bedside lamp like she would a baseball bat. "This is the stalker I was telling you about.”

"Stalker?" Blake echoes her in disbelief.

“Yes, I know.” Weiss moves in between them, calmer than how most people would react. “This is Blake.  _Blake_ is an old friend of mine, and I think she owes us a proper explanation before we knock her out with household furniture, wouldn't you agree?”

A thick silence hangs in the balance.

“Wait. So…You invited the crazy lady over here?” Ruby narrows her eyes. There is a look there, of confusion and mild betrayal. Although Weiss appears sympathetic, she doesn't concede.

“I don’t know if she’s crazy or not.” Weiss throws Blake a trustful glance. “But I don’t think she’s lying either.”

This doesn't seem to agree well with Ruby, who crosses her arms and makes a face. It's a less threatening look than before. Even so, Blake is infinitely grateful that she has someone like Weiss, who is at least willing to listen.

“When we last met, you mentioned someone,” Weiss reminds her. "I thought it might be a coincidence, but then I heard Ruby's story from yesterday."

“I was talking about Yang," Blake answers bravely. “She’s the same person, I swear.”

Yang stands in the background. She wears a complicated smile, as though it is both painful and comforting to be here, watching them from the distance.

“Could somebody  _please_  explain to me what’s going on?” Ruby interrupts. Naturally, she looks accusingly at Blake. “I thought you said you knew Yang from school?”

“No, Blake and I went to the same school,” Weiss points out, unhelpfully. “She’s never even met your sister before.”

Ruby opens her mouth, potentially with a lot more to argue about, but Weiss silences her with just one look.

“They were  _supposed_  to meet," Weiss adds in a careful, measured tone. "But they never got the chance to.”

Blake turns to Yang, who also looks puzzled.

There's a look of concern now, brewing on Ruby's face. "Weiss, what are you talking about?"

Weiss doesn't reply right away. She shakes her head as if to say, "Maybe it would've been better if you didn't know."

"She's the girl I set your sister up with," Weiss discloses, "on the day of her accident."

She doesn’t continue. That's all she has in her to say.

It doesn't make any sense at first. Blake holds her head, trying to comprehend what she’s just heard.

Realization begins to dawn upon her in terrible certainty. She can feel Yang’s eyes on her, wide and intense. Eventually, Blake returns the gaze, with uneven breaths and trembling lips.

“I was supposed to meet you that day,” she mumbles, “at the restaurant.”

“But I stood you up." Yang gapes at her. “Because…”

“Because you got into an accident,” Blake finishes in a whisper. Her head feels heavy and her stomach starts to boil.

The air stills around them.

“Look," Weiss cuts in. "I don’t understand what’s happening either, but clearly, there is something abnormal about this situation.”

Fortunately, Weiss has this air of authority around her and it makes other people listen.

“There is no way Blake could have known about Yang past the accident," Weiss decides, and she's staring at Ruby mostly as she says this.

There is a minute of silence. Then finally, Ruby nods rather reluctantly. She focuses her attention on Blake, looking expectant.

Blake glances nervously around the room. She faces Yang for support, and Yang gives her a weak but encouraging smile. Weiss is watching the entire scene, lips pursed.

“This might be hard to believe,” Blake starts again. “But Yang is sort of…here…right now.”

Ruby and Weiss share another look.

“I can see that,” Ruby says, very calmly.

“Yes, but I don’t mean just her physical body,” Blake goes on hopelessly. “I mean her spirit.”

There’s a drop of silence.

“You’re not explaining this very well,” Yang moans from behind.

“How else am I supposed to say it?” Blake bites back.

Now, Ruby is  _really_ staring at her, and it doesn't exactly seem like Blake is winning any favors.

“So, you’re telling me my sister’s ghost is here with us right now,” Ruby considers slowly. She looks around the room with an uneasy expression. Blake can see her fingers, clenching and unclenching around the hems of her sleeves.

Ruby sounds wary, and there's still very much a lack of conviction in her voice. But it’s changed from before. Now, it’s almost like she’s hoping that it’s true. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Ruby must  _want_  to believe her.

“Do you have any proof?" she says after some time.

“Tell her to ask me anything,” Yang offers with a wistful glance. “Things that only I can answer.”

“Right. Ask me anything,” Blake echoes her suggestion. “Ask me something only your sister would know.”

Ruby gives her a look of scrutiny, trying to figure out if she’s being serious or not. Blake challenges her stare, fear giving way to strength.

“What’s my favorite color?” Ruby decides to play along.

"Are you kidding me?" Weiss looks incredulous. "Is that really the question you're going for?"

"It's a trick question.” Yang grins instead. “It’s white, but she tells everyone it’s red.”

“The color white,” Blake echoes her answer. But Ruby is hardly impressed. She quirks an eyebrow and carries on.

“What was my favorite bedtime story?” she asks.

“The Huntress and the Grimm.”

“What’s my most embarrassing memory?”

“The time you had to go to the emergency room because you ate too much chocolate chip cookies.”

“What’s the first thing I said when I came back from my date with Weiss?” Ruby questions. She sounds very confident, as though  _this_ is the one that would stump Blake for sure.

Blake hears Yang give an audible groan before mumbling something in return.

"It's like she's a Disney daydream come to life?" Blake repeats her, with hesitation.

"Excuse me?" Weiss coughs and splutters.

“Not now, Weiss,” Ruby says dismissively. Her tone takes a quick turn. Her eyebrows are creased together in concentration and solemn thoughts.

“What’s the name of Yang’s birth mother?” she asks seriously.

The room falls quiet, and there’s silence where there should be answers.

“It's Raven,” Blake replies, keeping both eyes on Yang. She can see the unhappiness and the hurt flickering across her face.

And it seems like that had been the deciding factor. Ruby looks shocked. Like her senses have been knocked loose. Blake takes this opportunity to be candid with her.

"Listen, Ruby. I’m the girl who moved into your sister’s old apartment," Blake says, the words rushing from her. "That’s where I met Yang. That's how I know everything about you. I’ve been helping her figure out a way back home ever since."

“She’s here,” Blake whispers, “She misses you, Ruby.”

Yang is standing there, right by her sister's side, restless with hope and anticipation. "Come on, sis," she urges. "Please."

And Blake would like to think that Yang's words were heard, not just by her, but by everyone else in the room.

They hold their breath and count down.

Ruby stares into an empty space, eyes widening, and finally, her face crumples and she starts to tear up again. 

"I miss her too," Ruby sniffles. "I miss you so much, Yang..."

She may not be able to see, she may not able to hear, but it's enough for Ruby to have a little faith. It's the labor of her trust that keeps her going. She _believes_.

There’s another long moment of silence. 

“Alright then.” Weiss clears her throat. “Coffee, anyone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWKWARD but we're getting there folks, we're getting there... THE END is almost near.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Your comments mean everything to me :) 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts/comments or prompts!


	6. Chapter 6

It takes a lot of explaining to get where they are now.

There’s too much to share, and Blake leaves out the parts that are overly personal, as if once spoken out loud, they would no longer be hers and Yang's alone. Possibly, she's afraid of giving herself away, making this bond between them too obvious. There's no reason for Ruby to hear about that now.

Through Blake’s account, Ruby is resting on a stool next to Yang's bedside. She listens intently, all the while holding her sister's hand. And Yang, or the ghost of Yang, is sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

Weiss is leaning against the wall, tight-lipped, apparently, with nothing left to say. Blake can relate to the feeling. There's a sense of numbness in the air, as though they had just unpacked a century worth of information. 

Blake stares down at the cup of coffee in her hands. It's gone cold sometime in the course of the conversation. Maybe during the part where she talked about her last encounter with Yang, or their first real conversation together.

She takes a cautious sip. It's disgustingly bitter and Blake remembers exactly why she prefers tea. But she finishes the whole drink. Down to the very last drop.

“So, what do we do now?” Ruby decides to ask, and everyone is slow to wake up from their trance. As usual, Blake can’t find a way to answer her. It's probably something she should have thought of before charging in here, like a bird crashing headfirst into a window.

“We didn’t exactly think this far,” Blake admits. “We were hoping that something might happen if Yang reconnected with her body, but...”

Yang shakes her head. She's tried that already. Numerous times, in fact. Blake nods, understandingly, and stares back down at her shoes. Ruby looks between her and the last place Blake had turned to.

"Is she still here?” Ruby hesitates, her mouth running dry. "Can I, um, can I talk to her?"

Blake looks over at Yang, unsure of what to do. And there’s a brief moment where Yang herself seems too surprised to react. But she soon gives Ruby a grateful smile and rises to her feet.

"She's right next to you, Ruby," Blake says in a gentle manner. Ruby stares unwillingly at her, then at Weiss, then at the floor. She takes in a shaky breath and finally looks up at the empty space in front of her, the place where she presumes her sister will be standing.

"Hey, Yang..."

"Hi, Ruby," Yang says back quietly.

"She says hello to you too," Blake translates for her, patiently.

“This is weird.” Ruby shifts from one foot to the other. “You do realize how weird this is, right?”

"It's okay," Blake comforts her. "Trust me, I've been there."

"I mean, I want to talk to her but I don't know what to say," she mumbles.

"Just say anything that's on your mind," Weiss encourages her from behind.

"Sure, I guess." Ruby shrugs. "Yang, um, don't go into the light?"

"…Maybe not just  _anything_ , Ruby."

"Right, right..."

A pause. They take refuge in the silence that fills up the room.

“Hey, sis. I know you probably got this taken care of but…" Ruby laughs nervously to herself. "But if you don't wake up soon, I might have to get rid of you myself! Uh..."

Ruby cringes at her own words. "Okay, I'm not  _actually_  going to do that and I guess that was a pretty insensitive thing to say in a hospital wing. Oops."

Weiss sighs from the background, and Blake is just starting to understand what Yang had meant when she said the word 'awkward.' She smiles briefly, as Yang chuckles to herself.

"I just don't know, Yang. Is there something you want to talk about?" Ruby asks instead. She glances up every now and then, as though she's hoping Yang will magically materialize at any given moment.

"Is there anything else you want to say besides how much you miss me, or how sorry you are?" Ruby frowns. "Because I know you're probably beating yourself up over this, and that's not cool, Yang. Don't ever do that. This wasn't your fault."

Blake watches as Yang’s face softens. As though that’s one thing she hadn’t been expecting to hear.

"You once told me there's never a right time to say goodbye," Ruby recalls, and her voice takes a sudden hitch. Weiss takes a step towards her, as if ready to catch her if she falls.

"You were wrong though,” Ruby goes on solemnly. “This isn't like how it was with mom. There  _is_  a time to say goodbye. We all need to hear it someday."

"But it isn't now. It's not going to be today or tomorrow or next week. It's not going to be for a really, really long time." Ruby stares ahead, her eyes unblinking. "Not until we're all old and wrinkly, feeding pigeons and complaining about how teenagers park their cars, okay?”

"It's not time to say goodbye," says Ruby. Whispers, rather. "So I need you to come back to me, you big dummy."

She says it with just enough force, with just enough faith. She says it like she needs Yang to understand, that even when all the precious little things start to slip away, after all that life has taken away from them, surely, it wouldn’t dare to take her too.

"I promise," Yang answers soundlessly. She’s said it before, and she’ll say it a hundred times more if she could let it be true. Her hands reach out, and she places them on top of Ruby's, resting in her lap.

She wants nothing more than to make contact, to reassure. For a fraction of a second, maybe she manages to. Ruby’s eyes are wide open and the corner of her mouth is quivering.

Yang smiles once more, a private one, reserved for Ruby.

Then she fades again, and Blake can't help but worry, every time that it happens still.

"Did she…?” Ruby begins to ask.

"It'll be alright," Blake tells her carefully. “She’s gone now. It happens sometimes, but she’ll be back soon.”

After swallowing down the knot inside her throat, Blake reaches for Ruby’s hand as well. She takes it because she knows Yang would want her to. And at her effort, Ruby appears to brighten a little. Blake has no choice but to return that smile of hers. 

“Thank you,” Ruby says. Her voice stays steady, but just barely. “I’m gonna go wash my face now... I’ll be right back.”

Blake nods, making sure that Ruby trusts her enough to leave her with Yang, then she sits back down in her seat as the door closes behind her.

As if she’d been biding her time, Weiss turns to face her. “This is medically impossible, you do realize that?”

“No kidding, Weiss,” Blake grunts. “Are you telling me ghosts aren't supposed to be real?" she retorts and earns herself a scowl.

Of course, Blake knows what she’s trying to say. But there’s a lot of thoughts unspoken between them, and Blake lets them wander out, now that Ruby is gone and Weiss, presumably, doesn’t feel the need to maintain order.

“I still think there's a scientific explanation behind all of this,” says Weiss, being ever so pragmatic. “Maybe we can run some tests on you, down in the lab. Would you be willing to do that?"

Blake stares down her friend. "Do you  _really_  think that's a good idea?"

"I'm just trying to stay reasonable, you sarcastic nitwit," Weiss huffs.

"I think that ship has sailed," Blake mutters back.

For the most part, Weiss seems to agree with her, albeit hesitantly. She sinks down a little, and it almost looks like the wall is holding her up now, not the other way around.

They slip back into old habits, listening instead of talking, communicating with deliberate looks over the silence.

“Is she going to be okay?” Blake asks at last. She glances at the door, where Ruby has yet to return from.

“She will be,” Weiss replies, then nods, more to herself than for Blake. “Maybe not now, but soon. You know, she’s much stronger than she looks."

"I don't doubt that." Not for a second, Blake thinks, based on what's seen, what she's heard of from Yang.

“So?" Blake asks, with a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You and Ruby. How long has that been going on?"

“A few months." Weiss shrugs with a sip of her coffee. "It's nothing serious," but she says it in the way only those closest to her would understand.

Obviously, this is serious. Weiss never opens her heart up to anyone. She's certainly not the type of person who would be fetching people coffee at somebody else's bedside. But Ruby is different. She's a whole different category on her own.

"Now I know the real reason you've been so busy lately," Blake remarks.

"Oh, please." Weiss pretends not to blush. She clears her throat again, and as if to make a difference, she stands up straight, drawing herself up to her fullest height.

“How are  _you_  taking all of this anyway? And don't change the subject again," Weiss forewarns her. "I remember what you said the last time we met. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear something like that coming from you, but if it's really true then…”

"Then I guess it's just my luck,” Blake says it in her stead.

Weiss tiptoes around her, visibly concerned.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way,” she mumbles after a while. "I didn’t tell you. I didn't think you'd want to know."

"No, I probably wouldn't have,” Blake admits this easily. And it’s surprising, to find herself with thoughts of what could have been, a path that would have been easier to take. It’s even more surprising, to see how quickly those images change, from a life full of rain to the life that she leads now.

"Everything's different, isn't it?" Blake says under her breath, and Weiss concedes, with an expression of twisted acceptance on how things came to be, how much they’ve changed since the last.

Eventually, time catches up to them, and Weiss sighs as she spots the clock. "I have to leave. My break ended ten minutes ago.”

She gives a moan of despair, like it’s the worst possible thing in the entire world.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Weiss asks as she heads for the door. She glances over at Blake's empty cup. "Do you want me to get you another refill?"

It takes a few seconds, for Blake to suddenly feel an unhealthy amount of appreciation for her friend, now realizing, firsthand, on what she’s been doing these past couple of weeks.

"Thank you, Weiss. For everything.” Blake laughs quietly. "And, no offense, but… You make really terrible coffee."

-

It's nighttime and Blake likes to think that she should be done with dreams by now.

All it takes, it seems, is a moment of letting down her guards, and she’s back to where it started.

Though, this one unfolds differently.

For once, she’s out of the dark, basking in the daylight. She’s in a beautiful dress, something Blake is absolutely sure she doesn’t, or can’t, afford to own in real life.

In her dream, she's sitting outside in a wonderful garden patio. 

It’s empty, except for her. Then she hears the sound of a door opening. The lovely ringing of wind chimes in the air. 

A tall figure walks in. She's wearing a seamless black suit, and a violet tie, hanging loosely around her neck. It isn’t fair, Blake thinks. Here she is, blooming in her own season of spring.

"Hi," Yang says. She smiles, and it’s radiant, like the sun shining above their heads.

Blake can’t speak, feeling helplessly overwhelmed. In the meantime, Yang sits down in front of her, breathing happily to herself.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Blake,” Yang starts. "Sorry I kept you waiting for so long."

And it's only then that Blake begins to realize where they might be. She would've imagined this sooner. A universe where everything went right, and everything that ever went wrong, it would only be leading up to this moment, for Yang to sit across from her and look as excited and genuine and kindhearted as anyone could possibly be.

"I'm Yang, by the way," Yang introduces herself with a cheeky smile. "Just in case Weiss didn't tell you anything. Because when I asked about you, all she said was something about there being no mystery left in romance anymore.”

"Well, she has a good point," Blake responds, her pulse simmering in her ears. "It's nice to be pleasantly surprised."

Yang leans forward in her chair, looking eager and curious. "Am I exceeding your expectations already?" she teases.

"No," Blake smirks. "I just have a massive thing for blondes."

"Lucky me then." Yang laughs, as though it’s the funniest thing she’s heard all year round. It ties in perfectly with the music that starts to spread through the garden.

"Oh!" As if she'd been waiting for this, Yang gets up to her feet and offers Blake her hand. "Would you like to dance?"

"I don't know how," Blake replies, but she takes the chance anyway.

"Nobody really does," Yang says, as she carefully puts her arms around Blake's waist. "I just needed an excuse for you to come closer."

Yang pulls her in, and Blake delights in the way of her warmth. Just one touch and all her defenses amount to nothing.

It's a moment of magic and wonder, and everything about them, together, is too good to be true, and the deepest part of her soul is itching with frustration, and all she can ask herself now is what if. 

_What if..._

“Don’t think about that now,” Yang whispers into her neck, and Blake doesn’t how she always remembers to say the right thing. Maybe she simply knows her better than Blake knows herself.

The thing about her dreams is that Blake can always sense when they're about to end. She catches a fleeting glimpse of Yang, and then closes her eyes, concentrating, struggling to hang on for a second longer.

When Blake finally wakes up, the sun hasn't even risen yet.

She looks around her surroundings, dizzy in the invasive darkness. Ruby is collapsed in a nearby armchair, lightly snoring.

Blake turns her head and stares at the bed where Yang's body rests. The sound of her heartbeat echoes dully from across the room.

She's still there.

Blake lets out a breath of relief.

She's still  _here_.

-

Yang tries to keep their spirits high.

It's difficult, considering how much is at risk. But Yang wants to make sure nobody is thinking of the worst case scenario.

If there ever should be a miracle, now is the perfect time for it. And Yang will fight tooth and nail to keep any sort of bad news away from the people she loves.

Ruby is like her sister in so many different ways.

She's much more friendly with Blake, now that she's proven she's not a complete psychopath. And like Yang, Ruby tries to bear all of the weight on her shoulders, fix every problem by herself.

Fortunately, she has Weiss to look after her. And now, thanks to Blake, she has Yang to pull her older sister rank once in a while, making sure Ruby never gets away with skipping a meal or wallowing in self-pity.

Blake does what she can as well, and at the moment, the best she can do is to be a distraction. She visits her recent memories and relives them back for Ruby's sake. She isn't as great a storyteller as Yang, but she carries on regardless.

But even so, distractions are, by definition, temporary. And time doesn't pass by without ever taking something in return.

Yang may pretend all she likes, but Blake knows the whole truth. She recognizes the stagnation, the decay. She alone sees how weak Yang has become, lacking her initial animation, now only as half-translucent as she was before.

She disappears more often than not.

Blake worries because Yang must know, better than anyone else, what this could mean for her.

Time was running out.

It doesn't take long for secrets to no longer remain as secrets.

Ruby starts to talk endlessly. Blake finds out that the less she says, the more Ruby does, as though she's trying to compensate for the silence. She would go on forever, possibly, if nobody stops her. 

Blake already knows Weiss and her worst habit. She throws herself into work. She visits sometimes, pretending, putting on a brave mask for Ruby.

She's there, holding it together whenever Ruby falls apart. And whenever she brings up the matter of Yang's health to Blake, she always makes an effort to lower her voice.

Weiss would rather not face the truth. After all, she knows things that none of them would understand. Blake can't imagine how hard it must be, to discuss something like that with Ruby herself.

She mentions it once. Only once, because it goes so poorly.

"Ruby," Weiss has tried. "We need to start preparing for what comes after..."

But the answer is clear on Ruby's face, long before Weiss could finish her sentence. All she receives, in turn, are dry tears and closed doors.

-

"It's not what you think," Sun says, fifteen minutes after arriving at the hospital foyer. Blake stares at him, feeling stunned into silence.

"I heard what you said over the phone," he explains quickly, as though he's absolutely sure Blake would be mad at him if he didn't give her a proper reason, to begin with. 

"I'm sorry, I don't really have anything else to say," Sun sighs. "I just thought maybe you needed me here or something."

He waits for a response, which Blake does not readily give.

"Is it, um... So, is it okay if I stayed, or?" Sun asks, sounding uncertain.

And it's oddly comforting to have him standing there, fidgeting with his shirt, so far apart from the events that are unfolding upstairs. Blake knows she isn't the type of person who'd ask for company, but Sun knows that and he came anyway. 

"Sun..." Blake takes his arm and sits down with him on the nearest bench. "I really appreciate this, but I'm sure Yang would want to keep this between her and her family."

"Oh." Sun nods twice. "Right. Yeah, you're probably right."

"But I'm glad you're here," she says firmly. "Thank you for coming."

He bares his teeth into a smile, and Blake struggles to return the favor.

She waits as Sun watches her. His eyes burn into her forehead, and soon Blake forces herself to meet his gaze. This time, though, she has something to say. This time, she wants to say it before he, or anyone else, has the chance to speak.

“This wasn’t the plan, Sun,” Blake begins to choke. “This was supposed to be temporary. She wasn’t supposed to be real. We weren't supposed to-”

She just wanted the ordinary, the simple and the plain.

And maybe sometimes she’d fantasize about a love that was as passion and sweet as the rest of the world desires it, but most of the times she just wanted someone to talk to, to hold onto, to sit in a room together, both comfortable with silence in the night, and sleeping in during the morning while the city breaks through.

“I know,” Sun tells her. “But that’s not how life works.”

Blake can't continue. The rest of her words come out in tears, and Sun opens his arms, as wide as they can go. Blake doesn't move, so he scoots on over and pulls her into a hug. 

“You love her, don’t you?” Sun asks softly.

He stares at her, and his eyes make it impossible to lie. Blake hears herself say yes. Yes, she's broken all her rules. Yes, she's sitting here now, with her heart in between Yang's hands.

-

“Are you giving up?" Blake whispers.

It's delivered like a question, but Yang understands the hidden plea.

The color has drained out of the room, and Blake waits. Through the long, devastating silence, Blake waits for her response.

“No,” Yang says, her face straining for a smile. “I’m just tired, that's all.”

It's been an hour or so, since their latest update from the doctors.

Ruby left the room right after. She hadn't been ready to accept things yet, to hear what Blake or Yang might have to say about all this. She took off, with Weiss closely following her by.

It's not that there's no hope. It's just extremely slim, and the longer they have to wait, the less likely it becomes.

Blake has no idea what to do, she doesn't have a real plan. She only knows what she's about to lose. She knows this might be the part where she  _loses_  Yang, for good.

“You’re the only reason I got this far," Yang says faintly. This time, her eyes are wide open, and she’s smiling, smiling in the dark.

"Can you even believe everything that's happened to us?" she asks in wonder. "In a way, I guess the universe really wanted us to be together.”

Blake tries to smile, to laugh. She does it for Yang, who's looking at her pleadingly, asking for at least one moment of normalcy before it all falls apart again.

"Maybe," Blake says, managing a weak grin. “It’s either that or Weiss was really hoping I wouldn’t die alone.”

“Oh, that's crazy,” Yang tells her in exasperation. “You're not going to die alone. Someone else is going to scoop you right up.”

It's meant to be a compliment, or a joke, probably. But Blake doesn't smile and Yang doesn't notice. 

“What if I still want it to be you?” Blake asks. 

Yang stops. Her smile falters, but it doesn't die completely.

"You heard what the doctors said," Yangs replies, trying to remain indifferent.

"That's never stopped you before," Blake responds. Her voice is strong, stronger than it’s ever been. She hears the sound of her heart, bursting with emotion. Emotions that, when cut, would bleed and would taint.

Yang doesn't speak, but she doesn't choose to leave. 

“Tell me what you're thinking," Blake asks, feeling lightheaded, full of nothing. She closes the distance between them, fearing the emptiness that coils around her like smoke.

"I'm thinking, maybe..." Yang looks at her, her eyes darkening in something like sadness and longing. "If you could really touch me, I might wake up from all of this."

She catches Blake by surprise, and they stare into each other, dizzy from the built-up tension, giving into the heaviness in the air, taunting them to break apart or to try, just to at least  _try_.

Blake takes another step closer, and so does Yang. She's nervous, too, and her hands hover over Yang's shoulders. By instinct, Blake shivers, but she doesn't dare pull back. She isn't a hurry, not now, not when she wants so desperately to get this right. 

Yang doesn't hesitate, but she moves in slowly, as equally as cautious, and for a second, everything makes sense, it connects. 

Their lips meet for a second, and Blake feels  _something._ A sharp tingle, a sizzle, a pinch, a light squeezing over her tongue.

She smiles the faintest smile and the light dawns. Blake moves back her head, just an inch to see Yang's face. 

But Yang isn't looking at her, her gaze going over Blake's shoulder. Blake stops and she turns, for too long, and when she looks back at Yang's ghost, she's alone.

Blake's heart begins to race, loud, almost thunderous in the silence. She's almost too afraid to figure it out, because she begins to hear it herself, the sound of Yang's heartbeat from her hospital bed, racing out of turn. 

Blake doesn't know if she'd finally lost her grip on reality. Panic gathers at the bottom of her stomach. It wakes up, layer by layer. 

Then, she sees a twitch. She sees Yang's eyelids shutter.

_It can't be._

"Yang?" Blake gasps. And as though possessed, she leans over, takes Yang's cold hand, and rubs a thumb gently over her skin. "Yang, _please_."

And Yang must hear her, somehow. Her eyes are moving, fighting to just open. They're slow to respond, bleary and dry. Blake looks into them and glimpses fear.

Something wasn't right. A second later, she realizes what.

Yang seems to be mouthing something, her breath fogs up the oxygen mask. Her words come out in dry croaks, and her voice is too foreign to Blake's ears. Where, what, why...

_"Who are you?"_

Yang pulls back, confused. She drops Blake's hand as though it were iron. Blake wonders how something so small could be so telling of change.

Suddenly, all her dreams are of no use. Blake is wide awake and her reality has never been this dreadfully clear.

She hears a number of footsteps. There are a couple of nurses, rushing into the room, demanding her to leave now.

Blake takes a step back towards the door, her head elsewhere, but her eyes refuse to leave Yang's face. It's drained of expression, with eyes that spark no memories. She can't escape their watch, not until she's finally left, her legs carrying her out, running through the empty hallway.

She's nearly gone, when somebody reaches out and grabs her by the shoulder.

"What's going on?" Ruby demands. She looks terrified as if the worst had finally arrived.

Blake shakes her head because her lips won’t form the words.  _She's alive. She's back. She's not... But she doesn't..._

Blake tries again, but everything slips through her fingers. She's breathing too much. There are too many sounds. Too much noise. Too many voices, in and out of her head, all screaming. 

"I have to go," Blake whispers.

She turns around. She runs, before any of them could figure it out, before she has to explain  _everything_ again, when she can't, not when her heart is breaking into a thousand pieces.

"Blake?" Weiss is calling for her. "Blake, wait!"

She can't.

No, she shouldn't. She won't.

She's already standing below the edge, looking up at the waves.

If she stopped for a second, she would drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew this was happening... Those of us who watched the movie that is...BUT IT'S OKAY I'M A SUCKER FOR HAPPY ENDINGS
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I appreciate your comments so much. They are super encouraging! Hope to see you guys again soon with an update! 
> 
> The last chapter! Coming up next.


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